


A Nobler Race Of Men

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-23
Updated: 2006-02-22
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: The Enterprise is called upon to perform a mission of mercy for Star Fleet Command. Then things get really complicated: xenophobia, chess, and a terrible disease. (05/13/2003)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: For once I didn't want to write a shipper. I went out looking for substance. This, such that it is, was what I found. I swear that I did research. But I think my medical and chess terminology and my understanding of distances and location in the Star Trek universe may nevertheless be flawed. Bear with me, please? The title may seem sexist, but if I put it in politically correct terms ... it would sound silly.  


* * *

You shall not change, but a nobler race of men   
Shall walk beneath the stars and wander by the shore;   
I can not guess their glory, but I think the sky and sea   
Will bring to them more gladness than they brought to us of yore.   
~ William Roscoe Thayer 

Captain Archer had received only a few priority messages from Star Fleet after leaving his native solar system with the Enterprise, and yet somehow most of them came during the middle of the night, forcing him out of bed at the most awkward of hours. That could not be avoided, it seemed. That night, or early morning rather, was no different as Archer tugged a shirt on and scrambled to turn on the lights. As usual it was Admiral Forrest on the screen when he accepted the transmission. 

"Admiral." acknowledged the captain, struggling to smooth his disheveled hair. 

"I hate to throw this one at you, Jon, and I know you won't like it, but I'm ordering to backtrack a few dozen light years. We need someone out there to perform a mission of mercy for us." explained Forrest candidly as he clasped his hands in front of him. "Have you heard of science station three?" questioned the admiral before Archer could voice his natural objections. 

"It was just completed six months ago, right? It's earth's most distant science station, orbiting Ohniaka Four, if I'm not mistaken." answered Archer, naming an outlying star system. 

"You are as well informed as ever, I see." commented Forrest. 

"I try to keep up as best I can." 

"A report came in thirty-six hours ago concerning a sudden epidemic among the scientists and crew stationed there. The facility's medical officer was the first casualty of the deadly disease. Right now, they need supplies and medical personnel or ... we lose forty-seven good people out there." Admiral Forrest informed him solemnly. 

"And there's no one else?" questioned Archer, all reservations fading from his mind as he imagined the consequences. 

"The Vulcans have acknowledged this as a Star Fleet matter, Jon. They have made it clear that they don't want any of their people infected." 

"That bad?" 

"Yes, and probably worse." 

"I will have to consult with our chief medical officer, but I think we have the necessary supplies. I trust the coordinates of the station are in our database."   
"Affirmative on the last part, but you need to rendezvous with the Vulcan cruiser Seleya a few light years from your last reported position." 

"Additional supplies?" 

Hesitation was written plainly on the face of the admiral. He looked down at his clasped hands and took a deep breath. Whatever he had to say wasn't going to be easy. 

"For personnel, captain." 

"I assure you that our medical staff ..." began Archer defensively. 

"This isn't me talking, Jon. This isn't my opinion. Everyone answers to someone, and the general feeling here is that ... we want a human doctor to treat those people, not one of the galaxy's lesser known and more mysterious species." 

Captain Archer felt his face flush with indignation as he told Forrest, "You listen to me. Doctor Phlox has done an exemplary job aboard this ship, and now you want to tell me that he isn't good enough to treat some scientists on a research station? My God, do you realize how insulting, how paranoid, how xenophobic, how unfair that is?" 

"Like I said, Jon. It's not my opinion. I've read your reports. Your doctor is good at his job. That he is an alien just doesn't sit well with some people back home. I know he was your choice, and everyone else on the Command Council has respected that choice." 

Archer was seething, but taking it out on Admiral Forrest was not going to change a thing. The man was adamant and the decision was made. 

"Fine, sir." said the captain bitterly. "When are we scheduled for that rendezvous?" he questioned. He hung his head as he spoke. It was the only time Star Fleet or anyone in it had made him truly ashamed. 

"You will be picking up Doctor Zeller in approximately seven hours. The Seleya is probably already at the rendezvous location. I hear that the doctor is an expert on epidemics and plagues. Studied briefly on Vulcan too, if I remember correctly." 

"Well, at least we're getting an expert. I would hate to take a less experienced physician to the station." commented Archer acidly. 

"I am sorry, Jon, doubly so, but we can't always choose our missions." 

After that conversation Captain Archer could not simply go back to sleep. He sat pensively at his desk for the longest time, wondering what, if anything, he should tell his Denobulan chief medical officer. How would he explain to Phlox that prejudice hadn't really been eliminated on earth, that it had just changed into a different variety of the same old thing? It had become human versus alien instead of one race or gender against another. He considered not mentioning it to the doctor. This Doctor Zeller person was supposed to be a specialist. Why not capitalize on that aspect? 

"Because someone would eventually tell him why he really can't handle this crisis." thought Archer dejectedly. "And they might not do it very tactfully." The captain sighed aloud and began getting dressed. There were orders to issue, not mention his visit to sickbay, which had to be made soon. "Well, misery is a communicable disease." he said aloud, having one of those rare moments when he wished he had become a veterinarian or an actor and not a star ship captain. 

 

The captain issued the relatively simple orders from his quarters instead of making the trek to the bridge. The Vulcan vessel was not so far away, after all, and Archer didn't want to see the disappointed looks on the faces of the crewmen who guided the ship by night. It was bound to be bitter, despite the nature of the mission, which he divulged to them rather succinctly. Additionally, he would have to go over all of it again with his senior staff in an hour, perhaps less, depending on how the doctor took the news, and Archer did not believe it would be favorably. 

 

The lights of sickbay were rather dim when Captain Archer walked inside. Phlox could rarely be found in his quarters. He never slept. The doctor seemed only to use it as a place to change clothes and store personal items. It reminded Jon very much of his own college dorm room. As Archer stepped into sickbay he saw Phlox playing chess alone by the light of a table lamp. He appeared to be absorbed in the game, propping his chin on one hand as he studied the pieces. His other hand flitted from piece to piece until he finally moved one and looked up from the board. 

"Who's winning, doc?" inquired the captain with a smile that did not come easily. 

"It may surprise you, but I am." answered Phlox, gesturing for Archer to have a seat. 

"Where did you learn to play?" he questioned as he settled into the chair. 

"On earth, of course. A friend taught me the game. Many of us in the medical exchange program played chess together when we had the time. They were only to happy for me to learn." 

"Are you any good?" 

"Before I left, I could hold my own with the other novices, but I could never beat an experienced player." he chuckled. "You don't happen to play, do you, captain?" asked Phlox with a slight gleam in his uncanny blue eyes. Archer strongly suspected that he was sandbagging in order to get him to play. 

"From time to time." replied the captain, who felt that delivering the news over a game of chess might be the best available strategy. 

"Would you care to play a friendly game then?" 

"I would be honored, doctor." 

As they set up the board for a game, Phlox shifted the white chess pieces to the captain's side. Archer looked a bit perplexed. 

"You think I need the advantage of the first move?" he questioned. 

"My friends always deferred to the ranking player, captain." replied Phlox candidly. 

"I'm not exactly sure this is what they meant." said Archer, setting up his pieces nevertheless. A lot could be said for having the control of the opening.   
When Archer had made his first move, which was rather predictable and conservative, the doctor, his eyes never leaving the board, said, "I know you didn't come here at this hour of the morning to play a game of chess with your chief medical officer, captain." 

"True. I came here to talk." Archer acknowledged with considerable frankness.   
Finally moving a pawn forward, Phlox looked up at him and commented, "It must be important." 

"Everyone has his own definition of important, doctor. This is more ... difficult than important, if you know what I mean." said Archer, matching the move, but struggling to divide his concentration between the game and real issue at hand. 

"Complicated then?" questioned Phlox, moving the bishop on his queen's side into the gap in his line of pawns rather quickly. He was clearly thinking somewhat ahead. 

"I think that was the word I was looking for." admitted Archer. "I received a priority message from Admiral Forrest at Star Fleet Command this morning." he elucidated further, matching the doctor's move with the bishop on his king's side, but moving one square farther. Both men were playing defensively, though that was not usually the strategy preferred by Archer. Win or lose, he liked a quick game. 

"Go on." Phlox told him, studying the board with considerable care before moving a knight out to threaten one of his opponent's pawns, which was well defended. 

"We are to rendezvous with a Vulcan cruiser before heading to science station three, which is well behind us. They are experiencing a medical emergency, an epidemic, at the facility, and our mission is ... to see that they are treated." explained Archer, his concentration wavering as he moved the knight on his king's side into a defensive position near his threatened pawn. It appeared, to the doctor, that he was overcompensating. 

"It seems relatively simple, captain. But I do have one question. Why are we making a rendezvous with the Vulcan vessel? We are not in need of any medical supplies in so far as I am aware." said Phlox as he moved a pawn forward to free his queen. 

"We are taking on a passenger." said Archer, moving his king and rook into a castle position that seemed almost indicative of his mental state. It was as though he were preparing for a sudden onslaught. 

"A passenger? Of the Vulcan persuasion I take it." he said before moving his queen out just past the line of pawns, which remained almost unbroken. It was anything but a bold move. 

"No, human, actually." said Archer, trying to remain conversational. He paused for a long moment, glad that they had no timer, and moved his remaining knight toward the center of the board. He mentally admonished himself for having gone several years without playing a single game. Chess was nothing like riding a bicycle. Sooner or later it all went away, every skill, every memorized gambit. "A doctor." he added as he set the piece down upon the board. 

"Really? This must be quite an emergency if Star Fleet is sending additional personnel all the way out here." said the Denobulan, frowning and sounding uncertain of himself as he castled on his queen's side. 

"Is that a legal move?" interjected Archer, hoping to deflect some of the anxiety that he already felt. 

"Yes, captain, quite. It was a favorite of one of my teachers who did not like being boxed in, as he put it." replied Phlox, the uncomfortable doubt fleeing his voice at least momentarily. 

"Good strategy." Archer agreed. He moved his bishop to threaten the doctor's knight as an additional distraction. 

"What sort of catastrophe has happened at this station that they need two doctors and the Enterprise, no less?" inquired Phlox, perhaps more direct than he would have been without that sudden threat of attack on the board. He countered the captain's move by placing his own bishop in a similar position. 

"Copycat." muttered Archer, trying to invoke humor, the last refugee of a man in an uncomfortable situation. He edged a pawn out to threaten the doctor's bishop.   
"I was told that is an epidemic." said Archer, raising his eyes from the board and answering the question put to him. 

"Concerning a population of what size?" asked Phlox, taking a deep breath and leaning back in his seat for a better view of the chess board. 

"In the neighborhood of fifty scientists and assorted Star Fleet personnel." answered the captain, waiting for his opponent to make his move. 

"I see." said Phlox quietly, wagering to sacrifice his bishop in order to capture Archer's knight. It was a rather unequal trade, for Archer wasted no time taking the offending piece. 

"It wasn't my call, Phlox." Archer told him. 

The doctor looked at him rather oddly and said succinctly, "You have left something out, captain." He moved a pawn forward to threaten the bishop as Archer had done. His concentration was wavering too. 

"It isn't easy to explain this without feeling like one of the bad guys." he confessed. Archer had lost all interest in the friendly game of chess that he had wrongly supposed would help him deliver the news. He was only moving pieces as he set into motion the same inglorious exchange that Phlox had made. 

"It isn't easy to be the hero all the time." said the Denobulan, taking a white bishop in his hand as he moved forward the bishop that had lain in waiting for so many moves. 

"Tell me about it." agreed Archer as he slid his queen forward a few squares. 

"Just spit it out, captain." suggested his chief medical officer, who was growing more uncomfortable and weary of the chase. Despite all of that, Phlox still had the presence of mind to threaten Archer's queen with his remaining bishop. 

"Admiral Forrest informed me that Star Fleet Command doesn't want you to treat those people because you aren't ... human." Archer told him, absently moving a pawn between the bishop and queen. 

It was difficult to gauge the alien doctor's reaction. He nodded slowly, softly that he understood, or rather that he had heard. By no means did he understand in the full meaning of the word. He had worked among humans for a significant amount of time, those serving aboard he Enterprise especially. He almost intrinsically assumed that it was a matter of trust, and he found that particularly wounding. Phlox lifted his eyes slowly from the chess board and looked at Archer. 

To the captain's credit, he looked so sufficiently devastated that the expression was easily read by the Denobulan doctor, who uncharacteristically patted his hand before telling him, "I am aware of the chain of command, captain. I know it wasn't your decision to ... exclude me from this ... assignment." Even as he spoke, the captain realized that he was not angry. The doctor was instead phenomenally disappointed. "When will my resignation from this post be required of me?" questioned Phlox solemnly. 

"Your resignation, Phlox? No one is asking for you to resign. You were my choice for the position of chief medical officer and no one is questioning that." said Archer. 

"But really, captain, isn't it only a matter of time before they do?" he asked his commanding officer with a sad expression on his face. 

"Phlox," said Archer firmly, "if they want your resignation, they will have to be prepared to accept mine as well. I won't stand for anyone yanking people out of my command, especially for such backward, xenophobic, and ... and damn dishonorable reasons." 

The doctor was surprised at the conviction in the voice of Captain Archer. He was reasonably certain that Archer objected to the orders he had been given, but he was unaware of his commanding officer's underlying strength of character and integrity in such matters. He had no desire to see Archer risk his career on his account, but it was comforting to know that the captain would have been willing to do so out of principle. 

"Thank you, sir. Be assured that I will do nothing to stand in the way of this mission. If you would like, we may consider the discussion closed and continue with our game." said Phlox, although the captain could tell that he was still slightly disturbed. 

"Of course." agreed Archer, much relieved. He had expected it to go worse somehow. "Your move." he prompted the doctor. 

 

"That was a terrible game." said Archer, shaking his head as he walked to the lift with Phlox two hours later. "Remind me to practice before I play anyone else." 

"You didn't lose, sir." the doctor pointed out. 

"It was a stalemate, doc. Nobody won." 

When they stopped at the lift, Phlox questioned, "Are you certain that you want me at this briefing, captain?" 

Before they had left sickbay, Archer had alerted his senior officers that there would be a briefing in the situation room in twenty minutes. Most of them were already preparing for the beginning of their shift. The rendezvous was only a few short hours away, and he wanted them well informed before that time. The assignment was not at all difficult to understand, but as with everything Star Fleet had ever asked of him, not that they had given him many directives, there was always a hitch. If they had simply asked him to go to science station three and have his own people treat the epidemic, then it would have been an only mildly frustrating mission with a simple resolution. Unfortunately, they had to complicate matters as xenophobic tendencies arose among the upper echelon of Star Fleet Command. 

"Of course I want you there. You are my chief medical officer, and, as ever, I'm sure your input will be valuable." Archer told him. "Besides, everyone else would insist that you be there, regardless of circumstances or even orders. You are just as much a part of this crew as anyone else." he assured Phlox. 

"Thank you, captain. I knew when I came aboard that the idea of an alien serving onboard a human ship was novel. Even joint fleet operations with the Vulcans had met with limited success. The crew was slow to warm up at first, but they grew accustomed to an alien in their sickbay. Or rather, they are continuing to do so. I appreciate that they have all given me a fair chance, but what you have told me this morning has caused some concern." explained the doctor cautiously. 

"The same here, Phlox. It has made me very concerned about the people back home, but I have every confidence in my crew. We've been out here long enough now for me to say that without reservation." said Captain Archer.


	2. Chapter 2

The captain seldom called them into the situation room for anything. It was a cramped room with a long table and almost too many computers. It was used very infrequently because of those conditions, and because of that, when the senior officers had been informed that a briefing would take place there, most of them had the feeling that it would be concerning something quite out of the ordinary. That explained why when Phlox and Archer walked into the room, the officers were already assembled, several minutes early, and had looks of expectation on their faces, excluding, of course, only the Vulcan science officer. 

Commander Tucker, who was holding a cup of steaming coffee, nodded to the captain and asked, "Is it true that we're meeting up with a Vulcan ship this morning?" He was never one to mince words. 

"Did you bring enough coffee for everyone, commander?" asked Archer as Trip brought the mug up to take a sip. 

"I just grabbed this on my way up here. Everybody else'll just have to get their own." he answered. 

"We will rendezvous with the Seleya, a Vulcan cruiser, in a few hours. Then we will proceed to the Ohniaka star system and science station three." said Archer, answering Trip's original question. 

"Isn't that a long way behind us?" asked the engineer, although the others were having similar thoughts. 

"No one else can do this." 

"What is our mission?" inquired Sub-commander T'Pol. 

"Medical relief to the station. They are having a serious outbreak there. Without assistance, everyone serving on the station will probably die." said Archer, explaining the rudiments of the situation. "We are picking up additional personnel from the Seleya." he added. 

"At our fastest warp the Enterprise could not reach the facility in two weeks, three days, and ..." T'Pol began to say, giving her calculations without any prompting. 

"You're suggesting that we won't make it in time, T'Pol?" asked Captain Archer, cutting her before either Commander Tucker's or his head imploded from listening to the Vulcan recitation. 

"Yes, captain." she said coolly. 

"I don't have a lot of specifics on the nature of the epidemic. It is possible that ..." Archer started to say before hesitating a look at Doctor Phlox. 

"It all depends upon the virulence of the disease, sub-commander." said the doctor. 

"It's a shame that we have to backtrack like this though." said Trip, shaking his head. 

"No other Star Fleet vessel could make it in a timely manner. Any other ship would just be collecting the bodies." Archer told him. 

"What about the Vulcans? Obviously they could send supplies and doctors just as easily as we can." interjected Lieutenant Reed. 

"They don't want to risk their people catching this thing. It's our problem, and we have to handle it." said Archer. 

"How much information do you have on the nature of this disease?" inquired T'Pol, who understood the motives of her people, and yet after so many months on a human vessel felt a certain dissatisfaction with their reluctance to involve themselves more directly in a humanitarian mission. 

Phlox and Archer looked at one another, but the captain answered, "Actually, almost none, but ... we should be getting some soon." 

That was the end of the questions from the senior officers and Captain Archer had no more relevant information to give them and that was therefore the end of the briefing. It had been quick and almost painless. Archer sent Trip to engineering to figure out if he could squeeze any more speed out of the engines, but everyone else, including the Denobulan doctor went about their daily routine. 

 

Phlox had just finished treating a crewman from engineering, who had been sent to sickbay with a pair of jammed fingers, when Captain Archer appeared in the doorway, glancing behind him at the departing crewman. 

"Every time you suggest that Mister Tucker should tinker with the machinery down there, someone comes to me with singed, jammed, or otherwise injured appendages. Why can't they just keep their fingers where they belong?" questioned the doctor, shaking his head and putting away a hypospray as he spoke. 

"I will remind Trip about safety protocols next time I see him, but I have a feeling that this is probably one of the galaxy's great mysteries." said Archer. He shuffled his feet before informing Phlox, "We are just about to dock with the Seleya and pick up our passenger. Most of the senior staff, with the exception of Commander Tucker, who has the bridge for a change of pace, are going to be there to welcome our guest. Would you care to come along?" 

The request made the captain uncomfortable. He expected, or half expected, Phlox to have some resentment against the doctor who would be performing his duties on this mission. Even so, he could not neglect to invite the amiable physician on that account. If he wanted to be there, then Phlox deserved to be allowed to do so. There was no getting around that. 

"Of course, captain. I would like that very much. It isn't every day that a Vulcan ship consents to dock with the Enterprise, after all." answered Phlox with a smile, understanding something of the intricacies involved when dealing with the Vulcans, especially those commanding military vessels. 

"Follow me then, doc." 

 

The commander of the Seleya had informed Archer that only three of his people would be coming aboard to deliver some crates of basic supplies and necessities that Doctor Zeller had brought. True to his word, three Vulcans, each bearing a metallic crate of some great size, entered through the airlock, set their burdens down in the corridor and retreated, doing exactly as they said they would do without more than a blank look at captain or crew. Then another figure, a human woman with blond hair that was just beginning to whiten at her temples, came aboard the vessel. 

She said something to the cargo handlers in stilted Vulcan that was spoken in acid tones as they passed by her, which Hoshi Sato understood to mean, "Maybe next time I should bring my own baggage clerks too." T'Pol noted only the all-too-human rudeness. 

To that statement the trio gave no response as they closed the airlocks behind them, obviously in a hurry to be on their way. 

"Astrid Zeller? Is that really you?" asked Phlox in a dumbfounded voice as she swept her hair from her face and turned to the face the crew who had come to greet her. 

She tossed her head and placed her hands on her hips as she answered, "I guess no one told you I was coming, Phlox." 

"The two of you know each other?" questioned Archer, who could not help but to look at the self-assured doctor, who wore the conservatively blue uniform of an Academy physician. 

"From the medical exchange program that I took part in, captain." replied Phlox, who, for the only time in Archer's memory, looked positively nonplused. Making the mildest of recoveries, he gestured to the captain and introduced him to her with the words, "Meet my commanding officer: Captain Jonathan Archer." 

She looked him up and down for a moment before extending her hand. The grip was startlingly firm and cold to the touch. Something about her reminded Archer of a snake in the most unpleasant way. 

"I'm Astrid Zeller, captain, but I suppose you've guessed that." she said with complete self-confidence and an almost condescending sneer. 

"Of course." said Archer, hoping that his smile didn't look half as phony as it felt. He could not imagine spending two weeks interacting with such a smug and instantly irritating individual. "Always glad to meet one of our good doctor's colleagues." he added after hesitating a brief sidelong glance at the Denobulan, who was unfortunate enough not to have a poker face. He was the picture of misery and discomfort. 

"Your good doctor?" Astrid chuckled, the sneer seeming to deepen ever-so-slightly. "I imagine he would be your CMO." she commented. 

"I will have your ... things moved into a cargo area, if that is satisfactory." suggested Captain Archer, eyeing the heavy metal boxes that had been placed in the corridor without ceremony. 

"Yes, of course. That will be fine for the time being, but they must be transferred to ... your sickbay before we reached the Ohniaka system. I will have my work cut out for me, you know." she informed the captain. 

"Good." said the captain, feeling a bit perturbed by her brusque and patronizing manner. He almost glanced down to see if his insignia was still attached to his uniform. Glancing at Hoshi, who had gone through the trouble of shifting junior officers around to make room for the extra person on board, he told the communications officer, "Show Doctor Zeller to her quarters, ensign." He was almost afraid that it would come out as, "Shove her out an airlock, ensign." But he managed to disguise his animosity. 

 

When Doctor Zeller had been escorted to her quarters, Phlox made a hasty retreat to sickbay while the captain made arrangements for the doctor's cargo, which proved to be too much for the bridge officers to handle alone. The Denobulan doctor was not missed as they marveled over the strength of the Vulcans who had brought the crates aboard. Not even Captain Archer himself could lift one of the boxes unassisted. 

Phlox trudged through the corridors on his way toward sickbay, shaking his head at his misfortune. The universe was unfathomable in its size, infinite in its dimensions, and yet his path had managed to cross that of Doctor Astrid Zeller for a second time. Was there no justice in the cosmos? 

He politely shooed Crewman Cutler, who had been minding the store so to speak in his absence, out the door before sitting down and beginning to go through the latest medical journals from Denobula and earth that had been transmitted over subspace a few days before. His concentration wavered as his eyes moved across the lines of text on the screen without truly reading them. 

When the captain had made the opinions of Star Fleet known, he should have thought of narrow-minded Doctor Zeller and her affinity toward the writings of the discredited late nineteenth and early twentieth century racial theorists. That affinity was common knowledge, and most people grimaced in extreme distaste when she inserted such matters into debate. Unfortunately, Astrid was also a brilliant theorist in her own right although she specialized in more practical matters, including the study of epidemics and communicable diseases, despite the fact that such things were rarely seen on earth, but could readily be found in colony worlds or other areas of space. 

Phlox, as he considered it, would not have been at all surprised if she had volunteered for the assignment and had pulled many strings to get it. It was a chance to further her reputation in the field of epidemiology and to advance her xenophobic agenda. The situation was just the thing she had been waiting for. 

 

The chief medical officer had anticipated a visit from Doctor Zeller, although he had not and did not relish the prospect, but at twelve hundred hours, the accustomed hour of his midday meal, she had failed to make an appearance. Phlox was not disappointed, to the contrary he was rather relieved, especially as he walked alone to the mess hall. Sharing a meal with her after more than a year without doing so would have been all but unbearable. It required some time to develop the ability to endure her particular manner of dinner conversation. Phlox wondered whether he still retained that habituation or if she would make him nearly choke on his food again as she had the first time he dined with his colleagues from the medical exchange. 

The mess hall was reasonably crowded when the doctor entered, but as he looked around quickly, he realized that Astrid was nowhere to be seen. A table of junior officers turned his way as he as moved to pick up a tray and have what he considered a well-deserved meal. He had just made his selection and was preparing to sit down at a vacant table when Hoshi waved to him and pointed to a chair at the table she shared with Crewman Elizabeth Cutler and Ensign Travis Mayweather. 

"Thank you for inviting me to dine with all of you." said Phlox congenially as he took his place at the table. He was well aware of how quickly news traveled in such a small vessel, among a crew of approximately eighty, and that the crewmen were undoubtedly curious. 

"No problem, doctor." said Hoshi with a smile. "You want to tell us about your 'colleague' who came aboard this morning? She didn't seem like your kind of girl." the linguist ventured with a certain jesting sarcasm. 

"I am pleased that you think so, or rather that you don't think so, ensign." commented Phlox. 

"An evasive answer, doctor?" prodded Crewman Cutler, who knew him better than any other crew member, in mock-surprise. 

"What do you wish to know about Doctor Zeller?" asked Phlox, relenting.   
Hoshi, the only one of the trio to see the woman in person, was not exactly diplomatic as she questioned, "Her personality ... Is she really like that ... all the time?" 

"Sometimes she is worse, ensign." replied Phlox with a chuckle. 

"Then you know her pretty well, doc?" questioned Ensign Mayweather, grinning at the doctor's answer. 

"I don't think anyone can say that they know Doctor Zeller well. From what I observed and what I learned from other participants in the medical exchange, no one could make that claim. Would it suffice to say that by the time she left for Vulcan, I knew her as well as I wanted to?" 

"I suppose, but can you tell us why she's on this mission? From what I've heard, this is anything that our sickbay couldn't handle." said Cutler with an almost defensive frown. 

"She is an expert in epidemiology." Phlox answered. 

"People still study that kind of thing?" asked Hoshi, who found the idea of studying horrible epidemics both a little old-fashioned and a little gross. 

"Oh, indeed, ensign, though on your planet epidemiologists are dying breed, so to speak. What is the expression she once used to explain the phenomenon?" Phlox asked himself, frowning. "Ah, yes, I remember. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. She used it with a great deal of sarcasm to refer to the trend in human biological sciences toward the study of preventive medicine." 

"So she's here as a specialist then?" questioned Cutler for clarification. 

"I suppose that is an adequate way of putting it." said the doctor, who did not want his younger crew mates to be exposed to the whole truth of the matter. The captain had wanted the less essential portions of the mission, the xenophobia as an example, to be kept from common knowledge. He had felt certain that it would upset and outrage many of them. 

Just then Ensign Sato's eyes widened and she nodded surreptitiously toward the entrance to the mess hall, which her seat happened to face. Phlox looked over his shoulder to see Doctor Zeller standing there, momentarily observing the crowd before making her way toward the area where food was served. Her gaze had seemed to rest on him for an instant, taking in briefly the sight of the Denobulan doctor eating with three younger crew mates. He thought he had detected a mildly surprised smirk before she went about her business. 

"Nobody said she was pretty." commented Travis quietly when she too far away to hear. 

"Looks aren't everything, ensign." Phlox told him, watching Doctor Zeller as she took ample time to choose her food selections before seating herself at an unoccupied table in the corner of the mess hall, not too far from a window. 

"What's going to be like working with her again?" asked Crewman Cutler, also keeping her voice down as the three of them hesitated covert glances at the woman sitting across the room. 

"I don't know if Doctor Zeller and I will be working together exactly. This is her mission, after all, and not mine. I find it doubtful that she would ask me for anything, especially regarding something so close to her area of expertise. I would just be in the way, so to speak." answered Phlox uncomfortably. 

"But why wouldn't she ask you for a little assistance at least? She will be using your sickbay and your equipment, you know." stated Cutler. 

"Who knows? Maybe she will, or maybe she won't, but regardless, Doctor Zeller likes to have her way and she usually gets it. Just keep that in mind." said Phlox, who was very much against the idea of working side by side with Astrid Zeller. That would be a nightmare. 

"One of those." commented Travis, rolling his eyes. 

Phlox looked down at his half eaten lunch on the table as he nodded in silent agreement. At least one of his three dining companions seemed to grasp the idea that Doctor Zeller was not of their ilk. But talking about her had made him lose his appetite, which was a very rare, although not entirely unexpected, occurrence. He considered recommending that they stay away from her, but knowing humans, at least a little, he knew that advice would have opposite intended effect. Instead Phlox politely excused himself and returned to sickbay. 

"Poor guy." said Hoshi, shaking her head. "You would almost think he'd been in love with her." 

"No way!" scoffed Travis, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Astrid Zeller across the room. "He's sincere. They really don't like each other." he told them firmly. 

"Yeah? And how would you know, Travis?" asked Cutler. 

"Trust me, ladies. She really isn't his type, and ..." he began saying, preparing to share some of his space-boomer wisdom. "I get this feeling that maybe there's something seriously wrong with her that Phlox didn't want to tell us." 

"Sharp." nodded Hoshi appreciatively. 

"The only question is, do we really want to go there?" asked Ensign Mayweather, a shrewd judge of the situation. 

 

Phlox had come to think of sickbay as something of a haven, a place where he was one with the universe and at his best as a person. Understandably, there was therefore a certain possessiveness in keeping with those feelings. The thought of someone as willful and disconcerting as Doctor Zeller intruding upon that sanctuary was unpalatable at best, though he had resigned himself to the fact that she had the authority to do so and would do so. Perhaps that was why his reading chair at his desk did not seem as comfortable as it had been. 

In midst of his combined brooding and reading, someone at the door, who had stood there unobserved for some minutes cleared his throat. The doctor's head snapped up in surprise. 

"I'm sorry, doc. I didn't mean to startle you." said Captain Archer from the door. The Denobulan seemed almost jumpy. 

"I was simply immersed in my reading and didn't hear you come in, captain. What can I do for you?" he questioned, suddenly seeming to be his jovial self once again. 

"I think we need to have a quiet chat, Phlox, in my ready room." 

"About Ast ... about Doctor Zeller?" 

"If you aren't too busy." 

"Fine." sighed Phlox, putting away his data pad and following the captain out of sickbay. 

 

Hoshi and Travis had glanced at Captain Archer and the doctor as they exited the lift and walked directly to the ready room. Another piece of the puzzle? If not, then at least the indication that the puzzle had more than a few pieces missing. The looked at each other before returning their attention to their stations as the door hissed closed behind Archer and Phlox, who seemed a bit sullen, or less than happy at the least. 

As the doctor took a seat in the ready room, he told Archer, "The universe seems deceptively large sometimes, but in actuality, it isn't. It is in reality very small and composed of only a handful of people and places that we are doomed to encounter again and again." 

"Easy, doc. I think you just described hell." cautioned Archer with a friendly, understanding chuckle. 

"My apologies." murmured Phlox. 

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how bad is it that we have Doctor Zeller onboard?" inquired the captain. 

"I don't think it can be expressed as a function of those rather finite numbers, captain." 

"Is she competent?" 

"Yes, quite." 

"Sane?" 

"I am neither a psychologist nor a lawyer. I would not wish to make that determination." 

"An old flame?" 

"Certainly not!" exclaimed Phlox, more than a little offended by the notion, not to mention that it was the second time such a suggestion had cropped up. 

"How did you meet her?" questioned Archer, accepting the reply to his previous question at face value. 

"It has to do with chess, captain. One of my colleagues invited me to play, or rather to learn to play, in the company of our fellow medical exchange participants. Doctor Lucas introduced me to her after I had picked up the very basics of the game. Most of the students in San Francisco at the time were humans waiting for transport to places like Vulcan and Denobula. Doctor Zeller looked at me with what I took to be disdain as I sat down across from her, and we played chess." explained Phlox, recalling that late evening with peculiar clarity. 

"So Doctor Zeller is ... a racist?" questioned Archer to make sure he understood the doctor's meaning. 

"She ascribes to a variety of racial theories that are against humans having too much to do with aliens." 

"Then why did she join the Interspecies Medical Exchange?" Archer asked him with a pronounced frown. 

"She saw it as a way to further her career, and, I dare say, nothing more than that." 

"Prestige then?" 

"Yes, captain, prestige. It is probably that same reason that brought her here. You must admit that it is a perfect opportunity." 

Archer nodded thoughtfully and asked him, "Is there anything else I should know about Doctor Zeller." 

"She is quite open about her opinions, captain. If there were some way to inoculate the crew against such despicable ideas, I would suggest doing it, but that is beyond my skills." Phlox told him. 

"But the crew has been inoculated, doctor." said Archer with a genuine, heartfelt smile. 

"Oh? How, captain?" he inquired curiously. 

"By knowing you, Phlox."


	3. Chapter 3

The doctor was feeding his Pyrithian bat its evening meal when he heard the sound of someone entering sickbay. After speaking with Captain Archer, Phlox had felt a good deal better. There was something strangely comforting about that particular human. He could make any situation seem more tolerable. But when Phlox turned to see Astrid Zeller looking around his sickbay with eyes that seemed to measure everything and find it wanting, he felt just as miserable as ever. 

"Your appear to be out of uniform, Doctor Zeller." Phlox told her, looking at the civilian clothes that she wore. He knew that he would never get the last word, so he had taken the first. 

"My commanding officer is in San Francisco, my post is on Vulcan, and my patients are on science station three. I should be wearing a uniform why?" she questioned, putting her hands on her hips. 

"No reason." shrugged Phlox. 

She laughed aloud and said, "I don't suppose I could bust your chops about your attire, could I?" 

"Has anything ever stopped you?" he asked. 

"I don't believe it has." she nodded, glancing at the chess board on a nearby table. Astrid Zeller sneered slightly and tossed her head as she asked, "You don't still play, do you, Phlox? I don't hold out much hope for you. I don't think you will ever master such an innately human game." 

"The Vulcans have managed to master chess." he pointed out, knowing that if he defended himself, he would be forced to play her. 

"Oh, yes, and so have many computers, but it isn't the same thing, I assure you." she countered. 

"I still play ... from time to time." he admitted as she transfixed him with an unfriendly, challenging stare. 

Doctor Zeller took a seat at the table as though invited and gestured for him to do the same. Phlox was reluctant, not only because she would easily defeat him, but because he would have to talk with her for the better part of an hour. 

"Come on, doctor. Show me what you've got." she insisted, a smile of triumph already beginning to pull at her lips. 

"Very well." Phlox yielded, frowning as he took a seat. "You will take the white pieces, I suppose?" he questioned. 

"For the first game, of course." she said, pursing her lips in what he understood to be mild amusement. When their colleagues had taken to establishing rankings, hers had been one of the very highest in the group. Zeller moved her king's pawn forward two spaces. 

"Why do you want to this, Doctor Zeller? You know you will be able to win quite easily." said Phlox with a sigh, sliding one of his pawns forward a single space. 

"Is that strategy, Phlox? And what, you won't call me Astrid anymore?" she questioned, declining to give a reply to his query as she partially mimicked his action, choosing the pawn in front of her queen's knight. 

"I can, if you would like." he acceded, moving his queen's pawn out to threaten hers. 

"Trying to control the center of the board?" she inquired coolly, taking the pawn. 

"Perhaps." he said, capturing her pawn. It was not unexpected. 

"Did you gain anything from that little exchange, Phlox?" asked Doctor Zeller, chuckling softly. 

"That remains to be seen." he replied. 

"Cocky. Maybe you are learning something from your human crew mates. After all, you appeared to be assimilating into their culture rather well at lunch today." she commented, moving the bishop on the queen's side a single space. 

"Or they could be learning to accept me ... as a Denobulan." he retorted softly before moving the knight on the right side of the board out and toward the center. 

She slid the second pawn on her king's side forward a single space with an undisguised smirk. She was playing at least in part to watch him play and judge his skills, testing them for the bigger game to come. 

"Is that so, Phlox?" she questioned with a short, mean laugh. 

He moved a second pawn to the center of the board and shrugged, "Maybe it's a little of both." 

"I like that. The very idea that a ship full of humans ... likes their strange alien doctor. It's quite humorous." she told him, slipping her second bishop forward a space. Her strategy looked defensive to Phlox, but deceptive too. Zeller almost never played it safe. 

"I'm glad it amuses you, Astrid." he said, studying the board to avoid looking at her. Moving his queen's bishop forward two spaces, he admitted to her, "I have no idea what you're doing." 

"On the board or in conversation?" she asked, responding by moving her queen out in front of her king, which was more in keeping with her usual manner of playing. 

The ship's doctor moved his queen diagonally to the right one square before sighing, "And so it begins." 

Doctor Zeller moved the knight between her king and rook, accomplishing the dual goal of clearing the space and threatening one of her opponents pawns. Phlox automatically moved a pawn to defend the one threatened. She quietly castled. He slid his second bishop to the side of the first. Astrid moved her second knight toward the center of the board. Phlox hesitated before edging a pawn forward at the far right of the board. In response Astrid moved a central pawn forward two spaces. 

"That's how it's done, Phlox." she told him, breaking the silence that had begun to settle over them. 

He moved the knight on the left side in front of his king, and said, "Some of us have our own ideas." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Doctor Zeller questioned, looking up sharply from the board. 

"Nothing, of course." he said, having the most uncomfortable feeling that he had opened what the Commander Tucker would call a can of worms. 

She captured one of his pawns without another word, but Phlox could tell that the inadvertent jibe had bothered her. He responded by taking that pawn in turn with his rightmost bishop. Astrid took the offending piece with the knight on the right side of the board, at least marginally pleased with the exchange. He captured the knight with a pawn, also somewhat satisfied. She moved her unoccupied rook into a position that made it appear as though she were readying her pieces for an offensive. Phlox castled on his queen's side. 

"I smell a Jeremy." she chuckled derisively. 

"I beg your pardon." said Phlox with a frown. 

"Doctor Lucas taught you to do that. I made him afraid of being cornered, or didn't he tell you the rationale behind his strategy?" questioned Zeller. 

"He left your name out of it." conceded Phlox. 

"Kind of him." she said, reaching to make her next move as the sickbay door behind her hissed open. 

"Duty calls." said Phlox, leaving his seat to greet the crewman with the jammed fingers. 

"Doc, can I have another hypo of Anaprovalin? My fingers are starting to hurt again." explained his patient. 

"And why, pray tell, do you think they are doing that? You haven't been working in engineering again, have you? Certainly not when I expressly told you that doing so would in fact make your fingers hurt." said the doctor, walking over to examine the crewman's injured digits. 

"Oh, let the poor boy alone, Phlox, and give him his medicine." sighed Doctor Zeller, who did not approve of his unique bed side manner. 

"This is still my sickbay, Astrid. At least until we reach our destination." he shot back at her, filling a hypospray nonetheless. 

"Of course, of course." she said, leaning back in her chair and watching him administer the hypo to the crewman. 

"Watch that hand for a day or so, crewman." Phlox warned him before sending him on his way. 

"Sure, doc. Thanks." he replied, glancing curiously at Astrid Zeller and the chess board on his way out. 

"A human doctor would have made a more thorough examination." Doctor Zeller told Phlox pointedly as he returned to seat. 

"I did so this morning. Anaprovalin is not addictive, and if the crewman says that his fingers hurt, then I imagine that they do." he explained. "It's your move, Astrid." 

"Defensive are we?" she questioned, moving her rook out of its castled position. Something about her strategy reminded him of a cunning, but wild beast preparing to strike. 

He edged his leftmost pawn forward and asked, "Wouldn't you be?" 

"Perhaps." she admitted with a slight shrug, glancing at his side of the board. 

"We were discussing Jeremy Lucas." she said, moving her remaining knight up and toward the board's edge. 

Phlox moved a central pawn forward a space and question quietly, "Oh? Were we now?" 

"Do you hear from him?" she inquired, moving a pawn to threaten his. Hers was well defended. 

"We exchange correspondence from time to time. He is on Denobula, you know." Phlox informed her as he advanced a peripheral pawn. 

"Is he still an alien-lover or has the clash of cultures been significant enough to frighten him?" Astrid asked him casually, proving that her threat was not an idle one as she captured one of his pawns. 

"Careful, or I might take offense." he told her, ignoring the question, but not its obvious implications. He captured the pawn that he had threatened, the idea of a goose and gander crossing his mind for some strange reason. 

She captured another one of his pawns near the center of the board and commented, "But you never take offense, Phlox. Why change now?" 

Taking the marauding pawn with his bishop he vacillated and replied, "No reason, I suppose." 

"But really, Phlox, how is the inestimable Doctor Lucas?" she pressed, taking his bishop with her own, which seemed as though it had eagerly awaited the opportunity. 

"Jeremy is doing well. His letters contain nothing but good news and glad tidings." he answered in mild exaggeration, taking the bishop with his knight and wondering if their little exchanges were starting to prove too costly. "I take it that you don't hear from our colleagues often." he hedged. 

"Frankly, I do not, but that is hardly surprising, is it? None of you people understood me nor my ideas." she said, placing a special stress on the possessive. Astrid Zeller never forgot a jibe, no matter how insignificant. She moved her queen forward, lining it up diagonally with his king. "Check." she said perfunctorily. 

Phlox moved his king out of the way and said, "Understanding was never our problem." 

"Are you aware of both meanings of that statement?" she asked, sitting up straight in her chair, but continuing the game as she captured his leading knight with her queen side rook. 

"Yes, Astrid, indeed I am." he said shortly, moving the rook involved in his castle to threaten her queen. 

"Well, you have a firm grasp of the English language, and for that I congratulate you." she said, choosing to take the rook instead of being intimidated. "Check." she stated impatiently. 

"Thank you. I see your sarcasm has not been diminished by your time on Vulcan." he said, taking her queen with the rook that was waiting in the wings, so to speak. 

"It's the only form of humor that those green blooded cretins even begin to understand." she told him, taking his second rook with her own and sighing,   
"Check." 

"I hardly think that cretin is a fair descriptor for the Vulcan people. They have a rich and fascinating culture from what I understand." said Phlox, unhappily moving his king out of check. 

She moved her second rook up and said, "Well, one man's trash is another man's treasure." 

Phlox moved a pawn, attempting to find the best way to prevent his king from being trapped. She shifted her remaining bishop to the edge of the board. It was beginning to feel like cat and mouse to both of them. It made Doctor Zeller smile, but Phlox only mentally acknowledged it as inevitable. He moved one of his few remaining pawns toward her edge of the board, close to her king, while keeping it within the protection of his queen. 

"Say it." Astrid instructed him. 

Phlox rolled his eyes and said, "Check." 

"You have me on the run." she laughed, the very definition of a poor sportsman. Zeller moved her king between his pawn and its destination. "Would you have wanted an extra queen?" she questioned, faintly mocking him. 

"This game brings out the worst in people." he said, sliding his queen a couple of spaces to the right. 

"What? Competition? Intellect? Cunning?" she scoffed as she moved a rook down one rank. "Check." she said with a smile. 

"It makes one feel rather calculating, even if one is not winning." he explained, taking the rook with his knight. 

She moved the other rook down too and said simply, "Check." 

Phlox moved his king into the corner of the board, noting that she was momentarily neglecting the argument. She took one of his unmoved pawns with her knight. 

"Check." she sighed, propping up with one arm. "What's wrong with feeling calculating, by the way?" Doctor Zeller asked. 

Phlox moved his king into the only available position and said, "I have never thought of it as a particularly nice feeling." 

She moved her bishop to threaten his king and said, "Maybe you would if you won more often." Astrid smiled in the most annoying, self-satisfied way possible as she told him, "Checkmate." 

"Good game, Astrid." said Phlox, who had some concept of what it meant to be a good sport. 

"Oh, another Jeremy-ism." she laughed. 

"I believe it is." said Phlox with an approving smile. 

"Shall we play a rematch?" Zeller asked him. 

"Not tonight, Astrid. I'm afraid that I just don't have the energy." he replied, hoping that she wouldn't insist. 

"Another time then." she said with a nod and slight sneer as she left her seat. 

"Yes." he agreed reluctantly. 

She turned to go, but stopped at the door and informed him, "I plan on inspecting your sickbay tomorrow. I trust you will be available." 

"As my other duties permit." he sighed. "Good night, Astrid." 

She laughed and said, "It sounds so quaint when you say it. Until tomorrow, Phlox."


	4. Chapter 4

The good doctor, as he puttered about sickbay that night, wondered what Astrid had truly gained from their chess game and much meandering conversation. Perhaps beating an alien at chess gave her a more pronounced feeling of superiority, or 'natural' human superiority, than she usually enjoyed. Or maybe she was nostalgic for those days of playing with her colleagues in the exchange. It was a funny thing. Doctor Zeller had always gone out of her way to try to convert them to her prejudiced way of thinking, but in the end after playing hundreds of games and having equally as many conversations, perhaps she missed them, even the few aliens in the group, despite her changeless, unfoundering contempt for all non-humans. She had several opportunities during their game to begin spouting her xenophobic drivel, and she had let most of them pass her by. Phlox had to wonder if the Vulcan message of 'infinite diversity in infinite combination' had managed to infiltrate her closed mind just a little bit. 

"One cannot dwell on an alien world and return home unchanged." he told himself as he dimmed the lights in sickbay. "But perhaps Astrid Zeller could." 

The day had taken care of the worst of his fears. He had known Astrid to behave in a far more high-handed manner. He had known her to be a great deal more difficult, impossible even. Not only that, he could rest assured that her effect on the crew would be negligible. They would not turn on him nor on Sub-commander T'Pol at one word from the celebrated Doctor Astrid Zeller. Everything was going to be just fine. 

 

The next morning, knowing the hours that Doctor Zeller preferred to keep, Phlox elected to have breakfast in the mess hall an hour earlier than was customary for him. Most of the crew, with the notable exception of the engineering detail, were still getting ready to meet the day and had yet to filled the chairs and tables in the dining area of the ship. When he walked into the mess, which smelled pleasantly of warm breakfast foods, Phlox was surprised to see two people already having their morning repast. 

Surprised was not an adequate description. He gripped the nearest chair to keep his knees from buckling. Astrid Zeller, apparently content with a mug of hot coffee, was dressed in the uniform that denoted she was a member of the Star Fleet Academy physicians. She was laughing quietly and pleasantly with her breakfast companion. Seated across the table from her with a tray containing a hearty morning meal was none other than Commander Trip Tucker, perhaps the only person on board who had not been adequately warned about Doctor Zeller either through word-of-mouth or through meeting her in person. 

"You don't say?" the commander questioned loudly, seeming to enjoy his conversation with her. 

Phlox did not trouble to listen to her less boisterous reply as he prepared to go about his business. It was no concern of his if the engineer wanted to have breakfast with Astrid. She could be quite entertaining at times, especially if one did not know her or anything about her. She was an adequate conversationalist when she didn't talk about her work or her less than scientific opinions. 

The doctor chose his breakfast selections and decided upon a place to sit and dine as far from the other occupied table as possible. Zeller, the only one of the pair to note his presence, gave Phlox a little wave from across the room. He nodded politely and turned his full attention toward the food on his plate, hoping that the mess hall would fill up and alleviate some of the awkwardness that he felt. 

The sound of Commander Tucker nervously clearing his throat intruded upon Phlox's meal sometime later. The good doctor glanced up from his plate just in time to catch the hunted and disconcerted expression on the face of the chief engineer. Astrid could only talk for so long without scaring someone. Phlox didn't need to wonder about what she was telling him. He considered trying to rescue Trip, but knew that the commander had extricated himself from worse situations. 

He looked at them both again, with more humor, and thought, "Unfortunate. They would make a charming couple if her ... intellectual inclinations were otherwise." 

 

When Phlox reached sickbay, he busied himself with the feeding of his menagerie while he awaited Doctor Zeller's arrival. There was some satisfaction in the fact that he wasn't her first victim of the day. The sound of the sickbay door hissing open caused him to heave a little sigh as he watched one of his stranger creatures snag its morning flower petal. 

"Have you finished tormenting our chief engineer, Astrid?" Phlox questioned as he turned around. 

Standing there was none other than Commander Tucker, who looked a little frazzled. Trip folded his arms across his chest and frowned even harder at the doctor. 

"I'll say she has, doc. Why didn't anybody warn me about her? Did I miss a memo or something?" questioned Tucker. 

"I am so sorry, commander." said Phlox, chuckling. 

"Yeah, you sound real sorry." he said with a toss of his head. "What's her deal anyhow?" he asked. 

"When you first came aboard, it was no secret that you were not overly fond of Vulcans, Mister Tucker. Extrapolate a science from that prejudice, if you will." Phlox told him. 

"Oh, I heard my fill of her so-called science. That's not what I meant. I just want to know why she's like that. I mean, I never heard anybody go on like that. Gives me the creeps, doc." confessed Commander Tucker. 

"It does my heart good to hear that, commander." 

"But you aren't going to fill me in, doc?" 

"Not at this time. I don't think I fully understand ... where she's coming from myself." Phlox admitted. 

"Yeah, well, I pity you having to put up with a person like that for the next couple weeks." 

"It won't be so bad, commander. It isn't a surprise, after all." he said with an amiable smile. "Oh, and if you don't want to have another enlightening conversation with Doctor Zeller, you should probably make your way quickly to engineering." he advised. 

"Thanks for the heads up." said Trip, ducking out of sickbay in a hurry. 

 

Just minutes had passed when Astrid Zeller walked through the same doors that had admitted Commander Tucker. She surveyed sickbay with an expression caught somewhere between disdain and vague irritation, obviously considering the inspection somewhat beneath her, a menial job for a lackey and not for the illustrious Doctor Zeller. Her self-importance had not diminished one bit since the time when the two of them stood in an Academy sickbay on earth and she had directed him to sterilize some test tubes for her use, which he had done out of a sense of courtesy and only very mild deference. 

"Your chief engineering officer believes I'm into eugenics." Astrid told Phlox conversationally as continued to give the good doctor's haven the once over. 

"The term is archaic, but it hits close enough to the mark, does it not?" inquired the Denobulan. 

"You never read about our eugenics wars, did you, Phlox? It was human against human, of course. The genetically altered led the normal populace in a short, but terrible period of conflict. It was an unfortunate hiccup in our evolution as a species, second only perhaps to the recent Vulcan interference in our development." she explained, leveling her gaze at him. "So, you see, the term 'eugenics' hardly describes the concepts that I champion." she added. 

"Ah, I see. My mistake." he said curtly, frowning at her. 

"I see you've learned the fine art of sarcasm too." she chuckled. 

"Through recent exposure only, I assure you." he replied.   
"You know that I never disliked you as an individual, right, Phlox?" she questioned seriously, realizing that he was more easily bated by a barb than a year or so earlier. He would almost certainly never have risen to the occasion when they were both on earth. 

"Just as an alien ... on your planet ... interfering with your people." he said, nodding his understanding of her question. 

"Then you do understand." 

"Understanding was never ..." he began to say. 

"It was cute once, Phlox, but the horse is dead. Get off it." she told him tiredly. "Shall we get on with the inspection?" 

"By all means." he agreed. 

 

Doctor Zeller was thorough in the extreme. She understood precisely what would be required when they reached the science station. Phlox had to admit that. But after three hours of examining equipment, analyzing efficiency, discussing personnel, and taking inventory of supplies, his patience was wearing thin. It was ridiculously unnecessary, and Phlox knew that if a human, Star Fleet issue medical officer had called his sickbay home, she would have given him minimal difficulty. Of course, she would still have stressed her importance and authority, but she would not have questioned the basic competence of that hypothetical physician. 

"I could bring all of the auxiliary medical personnel down here to be questioned." he offered with the faintest hint of sarcasm. "You could test their loyalty to humanity and your planet's particular brand of medicine." he added as she looked at him blankly, reading over his inventory for a third time, perhaps a fourth. 

"I trust your staff implicitly, Phlox." Zeller stated coldly. "I'm only doing my job, you know." 

"Of course, Astrid." he sighed, looking at the ceiling of sickbay and wondering what mistakes he had made in his life to end up standing there with patronizing Astrid Zeller scrutinizing his work in that manner. 

"I have been assured that I will have access to the medical facilities on the station too. I am considering working from there." she informed Phlox, adding,   
"However, I am somewhat reluctant to expose your staff to the disease until I am certain of my course of action in treating it." 

"So you may not need my sickbay at all?" he questioned. 

"I may want some lab work done in house, but it is too small to treat very many patients here. It would not be practical." Astrid told him calmly. 

"In any event, Astrid, you have these resources at your disposal." he said, smiling and relaxing as it occurred to him that she might not be running the Enterprise's sickbay during the mission. She could, possibly, be spending all her time elsewhere, on the science station. That thought brought him much relief. 

"I'm sure I do." she said with a smile of her own than was none too pleasant. She understood very well what the alien doctor was thinking. "Until then, I have finished my official duties, so perhaps we can play chess a few more times and have deep, thought-provoking discussions like in the old days?" Astrid questioned. 

"My duties as chief medical officer are quite time consuming, Astrid." 

"I have heard that Denobulans don't sleep. Or are you afraid, doctor?" she questioned, lowering her eyelids and smiling even more malevolently. 

"Afraid? Certainly not. It is only a game." he reminded her, not liking the implication of cowardice. 

"Fine. Then how about another game ... in the mess this time ... say, around midnight or so? You can get coffee on this ship, right?" 

"That will be satisfactory." said Phlox, nodding. 

Astrid took a few steps toward the door, turned, and tilted her head to one side before telling him, "You could have said no, Phlox." Then she disappeared through the door. 

"Could I have, Astrid? Would you have actually taken no for an answer?" he questioned the empty sickbay, shaking his head.


	5. Chapter 5

About five days later ...

 

The ensigns Sato and Mayweather and Crewman Cutler were gathered together in a quiet corner of the mess hall during breakfast. Travis hesitated a sly glance over his shoulder at Phlox and Zeller, who were silently eating breakfast together. The chief medical officer looked as though he was desperately hoping to be spontaneously blown out the nearest window and into space. Doctor Zeller was reading a data pad and eating at the same time, oblivious to her companion's discomfort.

"They play chess in here every night at midnight." Ensign Sato told her crew mates quietly, looking at the pair over the rim of her glass as she took a drink of her morning tea. "Every night." she repeated for emphasis.

"Shouldn't we wait until they leave before we start comparing notes?" asked Travis uncomfortably.

"They can't hear us over the rest of the crew." said Cutler impatiently, glancing around the crowded mess.

"You must know something." accused Hoshi.

"Commander Tucker told Ensign Knight that she wasn't 'right in the head' and to stay away from her. I wish one or both of them had elaborated." sighed the crewman.

"She keeps to herself a lot. Maybe she's one of those disturbed geniuses or something." suggested Travis with a shrug.

"Yeah, maybe." nodded Cutler in agreement.

"Have either of you actually spoken to Doctor Zeller?" questioned Hoshi, who had her doubts. They both shook their heads. "If we really want to know what's going on, one of us really should." she suggested.

"You're the one with the communication skills." said Travis hastily as they both smiled at him.

"But you're charming." said Cutler with a grin. "And you said she's pretty." she added.

"Hey, I didn't think that was going to come back to haunt me." he objected. "Hoshi, you can't make me do this! I mean, what would I say to her? 'Hi, doctor, they sent me to figure out what's wrong with you.' No way!"

"Let's at least make this fair. How about drawing straws?" questioned Hoshi, who did not relish the assignment, especially when she thought about the words the woman had said to the Vulcans carrying her luggage.

"Fair enough." agreed Travis.

 

When Ensign Mayweather had drawn the shortest drinking straw, there had been much mirth, which was suppressed before it merited the attention of the other crew members dining that morning. But Travis couldn't refuse the assignment. The drawing had been fair, after all. His shift ended about half an hour before dinner, at which time he customarily joined his friends for the evening repast. It was decided that since he wasn't wild about the idea of playing chess with Doctor Zeller, he would invite her to share a table with him at dinner as a friendly gesture. That was the best scheme that the trio of curious, young crew mates could come up with on such short notice.

Travis, as he walked very slowly toward the quarters where Doctor Zeller was staying, felt monumentally uncomfortable. It brought back the disagreeable memory of when his parents' cargo ship, the Horizon, had docked with the Serendipity where the Draylax-Vega run met up with the Draylax-Alpha Centauri run. He had just turned sixteen, and the captain of he Serendipity had a daughter who was the same age. His parents had urged him to go over and meet the girl, probably hoping that they would hit it off. That was how boomers found their wives and husbands. Meet someone on another ship, correspond for a year or two, and then get married next time they were able to see each other. There was a lot of pressure involved, or so Travis Mayweather thought, but it scarcely held a candle to asking Doctor Zeller to dinner, and not even in a romantic way.

The ensign pressed the buzzer on her door and waited for her to answer. When the door opened, the woman standing there looked at least a little surprised.

Mayweather grimaced as he said, "I'm Ensign Travis Mayweather, doctor. I've seen you having dinner alone for a couple of days now. I was wondering if you wanted some company." It was more or less what his accomplices had instructed him to say to her.

Astrid Zeller laughed softly and crossed her arms as she inquired, "Is that so, ensign? How very kind of you!"

She was a little confused, not to mention ever-so-slightly unnerved. She was certain that Phlox had not put the young man up to it. Most of the crew, from what she could tell, had given her a wide berth, almost as though they had been warned about her. Where many in her position would have felt offense, Astrid Zeller had found only vague amusement.

"Any idea what they're serving tonight?" she questioned, gesturing for him to lead the way and allowing the door to close behind her.

"I think it's spaghetti, doctor."

"Please, you don't have to call me that. Astrid is much better." she told him with a smile that unsuccessfully belied her feelings of self-importance.

"Um, sure ... Astrid. You can call me Travis then." he said nervously as he thought, "She doesn't seem crazy, but I still have the uncanny feeling that this is going to be a long meal."

 

The mess hall had already begun to fill with crewmen who had just finished their shift and wanted to get some chow. When Ensign Mayweather and Astrid Zeller had finished preparing two trays of steaming spaghetti and meatballs, they made their way to a table with a view and sat down. 

Travis stirred his hot plate of pasta and glanced at his dinner companion. He stuck with his original estimation of her. She was indeed pretty. They didn't have many blondes on the Enterprise. It was nice to look at one for a change, although by his estimation, she was probably at least fifteen years his senior.

"So what do you do aboard the Enterprise?" Zeller asked him conversationally, watching him play with his food.

"I pilot the ship." said Travis proudly. "And the shuttlepod too sometimes." he added.

"Sounds exciting." Astrid commented, though her voice lacked a certain sincerity.

"It is, most of the time, but we go through days, sometimes weeks of just open space. I saw enough of that as a kid to last a lifetime." he told her.

"As a kid? In space?" she questioned skeptically.

"I'm a boomer. My parents ran cargo. They still do."

"Have you ever been to earth then, Travis?" she inquired, her interest becoming quickly more genuine.

"Of course." he chuckled. "I went to the Academy, after all."

Doctor Zeller smiled at that and nodded, "Naturally. I was a doctor there, you know, for quite some time."

"Yeah? Did you teach any classes or were a staff doctor?"

"Research. I was doing medical research through the Academy as well as the occasional physical for members of the admiralty and so forth." she explained.

"Then you joined the Interspecies Medical Exchange?"

"How did you know that?"

"Oh, Hoshi told me. She was there when you came aboard."

Astrid seemed to accept the answer without additional thought and told him, "Yes, then I joined the exchange. I had no idea how difficult it would be to live among the Vulcans on that horrid desert planet of theirs. Believe me, if I had had even the slightest notion of how bad it was going to be, then, career advancement or not, I would have stayed on earth."

"You didn't enjoy traveling in space, meeting new people, seeing another planet ... or any of it?" questioned Mayweather, frowning. He was very much taken aback by her forthright statements.

"Well, I must admit that the idea of traveling among the stars still appeals to me, but I like it much better here on a human ship among my own people." she confessed.

"Yeah, but we're explorers. We're all out here to see people and places that humans haven't had the opportunity to see before. It's about more than zipping through spaces with our buddies, you know." Travis told her. "I get the feeling that you aren't comfortable with alien races, except maybe Phlox, and exploration involves stepping outside your comfort zone. It may not always be nice, but it is usually worth it." he continued.

"Everyone should be an idealist when they're young." she said condescendingly. "But I don't believe that different species were meant to mingle."

"You've got to be kidding me!" exclaimed Travis in disbelief.

"Humans are better off when we maintain solidarity. Interacting with aliens ... it isn't an especially good idea. You see, we evolved from the conditions present on earth. Our planet shaped us and made us who and what we are. The same is true of the aliens races. They evolved separate from us and therefore don't have a share in our destiny. It is in our best interest, in the best interest of humanity, to remain a strong, cohesive unit." she explained to him with some fervor.

"Separate, but equal?" scoffed Travis. "That will never work. Curiosity is a big part of human nature. No one likes the idea of being bound to the planet. We were meant to meet other, alien races and learn about them. Some of them have a lot to teach us. We are all part of the same galaxy, the same universe, after all." he argued.

"But by teaching aliens what we know, we may be unwittingly giving weapons to our enemies." she countered.

"Knowledge is power." he agreed. "But it's a two-way street. We may learn ways to make our lives better and improve our technology."

"We are a very capable species, Travis. We can learn on our own. Given that the Vulcans interfered with our science and held us back for decades, we may actually be substantially better off on our own."

"The Vulcans were probably doing what they thought was best for us." he pointed out.

"How will we ever know that for sure? I'm not willing to trust those pointy-ear machines blindly."

"I've served with a Vulcan officer for a while now. I can vouch for the integrity of at least her." said Travis firmly.

Astrid chuckled and said, "Very well then, but what about the other aliens you've met out here? Are they all as ... trustworthy as the Vulcans, or, minimally, your Vulcan officer?"

Ensign Mayweather thought about the Nausicans, the Tandarans, and the guys with the big ears that had tried to rob them. He hesitated, but then he chuckled.

"Point taken, but that still doesn't justify paranoid isolationism." he said.

"You may change your tune before your tour of duty is over, Travis." she told him.

Travis grinned and said, "But even if I do, I'm bound to have some fun along the way, which is more than I can say for the way you're going." Standing, he added, "It's been nice having dinner with you. I think I understand a lot better now."

Astrid gave him a quizzical look as he picked up his tray and left. What could he possibly understand better?

"What a strange young man." Doctor Zeller murmured, turning her attention toward the window and the stars rushing by.

 

The three conspirators had agreed to meet in Hoshi's quarters after Travis had completed his assignment. Since Cutler had been among the crewmen moved out of their quarters in a very complicated attempt to free a set for Doctor Zeller, it was especially convenient as she was sleeping in a spare bunk next door. Travis considered calling off the meeting after what he had learned. It was almost too depressing for words. But the girls were depending on him, and he knew that they wouldn't let him off the hook.

Ensign Mayweather stood outside in the corridor for several minutes before pressing the button to alert Hoshi that she had a visitor. For a moment he thought he could actually hear the scampering of her small feet across the deck as she dashed to answer the summons. When the door whisked open, Cutler was standing there grinning.

"You're early!" she exclaimed, ushering him inside.

"But you're already here." he pointed out, glancing at Hoshi, who was sitting on the bed, obviously catching up on some of her work. The communications officer was always busy with a data pad of an alien language.

"The anticipation was killing her." said Hoshi, tearing herself away from the pad and gesturing for Travis to have a seat.

"So what did you find out about the mysterious Doctor Zeller?" questioned Cutler as Travis didn't show any sign of giving a report.

"Are you sure you want to hear this? It isn't good." he warned them uncertainly.

"Come on, Travis. You can't leave us in the dark." said Hoshi.

For a moment the young ensign wanted to sugar coat what he was about to tell them, but then some of the anger and frustration that he had felt began to surface. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"She's some kind of anti-alien, xenophobic freak." he said, spitting it out all at once.

Hoshi and Crewman Cutler sat there in stunned silence just staring at him for a moment, taking in the full meaning of his words.

"Wait a minute." said Cutler, shaking her head in confusion. "But ... that doesn't make any sense."

"No, it makes a lot of sense," said Hoshi with a sigh, recalling what Zeller had said to the Vulcan cargo handlers and how displeased and uncomfortable Phlox seemed with her presence on the ship

"At least we can understand now why Commander Tucker wants his people to steer clear of her. I can't imagine many things that would upset him more." commented Cutler.

"That's for sure." agreed Travis.

"So, Phlox knows too, right? But what about Captain Archer?" questioned Hoshi.

"He can't possibly know. He would be of the same mind as the commander." said Ensign Mayweather.

"I don't know." said Cutler doubtfully. The other two crew members looked at her an explanation. "I know it's horrible and everything, but I don't think the captain would have isolated her. He's optimistic, you know? Maybe he thinks that we, that the crew, could open her eyes just a little." she suggested hesitantly.

Travis and Hoshi grinned at the thought. The captain had a lot of faith in them. He trusted his crew to make the right decisions and to be people of good character. The situation was a great reminder of that.

"Yeah, maybe you're right." agreed Ensign Mayweather, feeling much better about the situation.

 

Doctor Zeller was already waiting for him when Phlox walked into the mess hall with his chess set sometime just before midnight. She was sipping her coffee thoughtfully and gazing out the window. It seemed as though Astrid could never get enough star-gazing. He certainly could not blame her. The view from the mess hall was one of the best on board the Enterprise.

Astrid seemed to startle from her reverie as Phlox set the board down upon the table and took his accustomed seat. She smiled slightly and something unpleasant glinted in her pale blue eyes. But the Denobulan had become quite used to such looks and paid her no mind as he graciously offered her the white pieces.

"I had dinner with an ensign." she informed him.

"Oh?" he said as he set up his side of the board.

"Don't you want to know which one?" Astrid questioned.

"It is certainly none of my business." he replied, thinking to himself, "You've been here practically a week. If you haven't caused any trouble by now, it is unlikely that you are going to start." Her presence was no longer the source of incredible anxiety.

"Travis Mayweather." she told him as though he had demanded to know.

Phlox brightened a little and questioned, "Really? Travis? I imagine you had a wonderful discussion with him."

"Indeed. He was just as idealistic and ... progressive as the greenest cadet at the Academy, and just as full of wrong-headed ideas and self-righteousness." she said, shaking her head.

"And I know I wouldn't have him be any other way." said Phlox with a smile. "Now, let's play some chess, Astrid. I must profess to feeling lucky tonight."

"Dream on." she laughed, making her first move.


	6. Chapter 6

Six days later

 

Phlox had informed Doctor Zeller during their usual midnight game that Captain Archer wanted to speak with her. They were only three days away from the science station in the Ohniaka system and her patients. She had received a subspace message two days earlier telling her that five researchers and one member of the station's command personnel had died of the disease. The situation was growing more desperate by the day, and Astrid Zeller was their only hope. Knowing that filled her with pride, of course, but she wondered why the captain wished to see her. Since greeting her when she came aboard, he not made any attempt to contact her, leaving her to her own devices for the better part of eleven days. Was it something to do with her mission or rather something to do with her personally? With the except of a few polite junior officers, the crew mostly let her be or actively avoided her. She had to wonder as she boarded the lift that morning to visit Archer in his ready room.

The captain was sitting in his ready room, reading the last report on the efficiency of the warp engine from Commander Tucker, when the sound of someone at the door interrupted his train of thought. Rumors and gossip concerning Doctor Zeller had reached his ears, which was something of a rare occurrence. It was unusual for anything of that nature to come to the attention of the captain. The crew, whenever there was something to talk about, usually made their best effort to keep it among themselves and off the radar screen of their commanding officer. A few of them actually seemed to pride themselves in doing so, especially concerning ship board romances, a few of which Archer secretly believed were beginning to bloom. But rumors suggesting the Doctor Zeller was both xenophobic and paranoid were apparently running rampant, and they were beginning to bother him. The straw that broke the camels back came when T'Pol asked him why the crew seemed more solicitous toward her than usual. Archer decided that the best way to find out if he had cause to be truly concerned was to have a conversation with Astrid Zeller himself.

"Come in." Archer called when the door beeped. For a moment he thought about laying the data pad aside, but he didn't want her to be the center of his attention. At least not right away.

Before Doctor Zeller stepped into the room, he had anticipated that she would be in uniform. She was an officer, after all, and could probably have been considered on-duty. Her rank, he had learned through careful investigation, was that of a lieutenant commander. She had not been promoted in sometime, but he suspected that the rank meant nothing to her as a doctor and scientist. It rankled ever-so-slightly when she walked into his officer in a conservative blue-gray dress that hung nearly to the floor. Astrid looked more like someone's parsimonious maiden aunt coming for a visit from the country than a Star Fleet officer.

"I was told that you wanted to see me, captain." she said easily, taking a seat before he had the opportunity to invite her to do so. Zeller glanced around his ready room with a measured gaze as though trying to decide whether she approved of it.

"I have been meaning to have this meeting for a few days now." Archer prefaced. "But up until now I've had the luxury of avoiding it. You see, I've been hearing some ... things about you from the crew." he explained.

"It's all true." she interjected with a slight smirk. "Whatever you've heard, it's probably all true."

"Well, be that as it may, I still want to hear it from the horse's mouth, doctor." said Archer, smiling to hide his irritation.

"How about telling me just exactly what you've heard, and I will confirm or deny it?" she suggestion, leaning forward in her seat. To all appearances, she was enjoying herself.

"Look, I really don't care about the anti-alien views that you ascribe too, but this is beginning to interfere with my crew and their performance. Having ..." he said, not bothering to mince words, "someone who so unabashedly advocates xenophobia onboard is becoming stressful for many of them, especially those who have grandparents or great grandparents that remember the post atomic horrors and all that."

"Thank you for spelling that out for me, captain, but I am not advocating violence." she said, wrinkling her nose at the idea that he identified her with barbarism, especially barbarism carried out between members of the human race.

"But you do see my point, doctor?"

"Yes, I suppose I do. You want to maintain order on your ship and perceive me as a threat." she told him.

"Not at all." chuckled Archer. "You are not a threat. You are an inconvenience." he said, correcting her.

"Does this mean that you are confining me to quarters for the last three days during which I will be ... inconvenient?" she inquired.

"Not at all, doctor. I'm not even telling you not to talk to my crew. You see, doctor, if I did that, if I isolated or punished you for your opinions and beliefs, then I would become just a little like you. After all, prejudice is prejudice. You have a right to your beliefs, especially since they are only hurting you. I just want you to understand the effect your having." said Archer.

"Are you finished? Do you feel superior now? Enlightened maybe? In any case, captain, eventually some of these aliens that you are so eager to defend will be our undoing, and just as likely will we be theirs, and you will remember me perhaps a bit more kindly or at least you will come to know that I was right." she told him.

"Doctor Zeller, when I signed up to come out here, it occurred to be on more than one occasion that we, that humanity, might find enemies out here as well as friends, but nevertheless I chose to go boldly where no man has gone before. I thought the risk was worth it. I still do, doctor."

"And this conversation? What do you think you will gain from it, captain? I hope you weren't hoping to change me or seriously challenge my ideals. You have done neither." Doctor Zeller told him in acid tones.

"I don't know exactly what I was hoping for, but I have one last question for you, doctor?"

"Go ahead."

"How on earth have you made it so far in Star Fleet, to the point of being requested for missions, with your views?" questioned Archer.

Astrid's lip curled when she answered, "Through determination, expertise, and knowing the right people, captain."

Captain Archer knew that she was referring to the admirals that had insisted on a human doctor for their current assignment. The only question left unanswered was which came first, Astrid or the increase in xenophobic tendencies? Secretly, he was reasonably certain that it was Astrid.

"I don't doubt it." muttered Archer. He nodded toward the door and told her, "You're dismissed."

She rose gracefully from the chair and smiled as she said, "I hope nothing I've said will keep you up at night, captain."

Archer wasn't sure who had won the argument, but he certainly didn't feel victorious. But then, he wasn't certain that their argument was one with clearly defined winners and losers. His heart told him that he was right, and yet he had to acknowledge that Doctor Zeller's probably told her the same thing. The uncertainty resided in the fact that there was no way to prove to Astrid that humans and aliens could and were meant to exist together.

"But we have learned to live together, after all." he mused, thinking of both humanity and his crew.

 

Sometimes Doctor Zeller was forced to give credit where credit was due. Captain Archer was a far more rational opponent in an argument than many of his peers at Star Fleet and his subordinates aboard the Enterprise. Archer was more passionate as well, an increasingly rare characteristic in a man of his years. After so many years of service, the initial passion found in almost every cadet and ensign had dwindled or died. Astrid found great relief in that fact, and it disturbed her profoundly that the captain seemed to retain his youthful idealism well into middle age.

"A generation of Captain Archers ... and my ideas will be extinct." she muttered as the lift began taking her back in the direction of sickbay where she presumed her cargo containers would be waiting. She had instructed Phlox to have them moved to sickbay in anticipation of the ship's arrival at the science station.

Two crewmen who looked a little bit like security personnel were just beginning to carry the metallic crates into sickbay when she arrived. She squeezed by them as they carried one crate through the doors. Phlox was looking mildly exasperated as he tried to make room for her medical supplies in the small sickbay.

"I'll take care of unpacking those." she told him as he began to break the seal of one of the crates.

"You have what I believe they call trust issues, Astrid." he remarked.

"I packed the boxes myself, Phlox, so it would be more efficient if I unpacked them too." she told him, putting her hands on her hips.

"I see." the doctor nodded as he held up his hands and stepped away from her crates, feeling that she was being unreasonably possessive about her cargo.

"Really, Phlox, I'm not trying to say anything about you or your medical qualifications. I think I've enough argument for one morning. Just suffice it to say that I would rather do some things myself." she said with a sigh.

"Did Captain Archer prove to be ... more imposing than you might have previously believed him to be?" questioned Phlox with a rather satisfied smile.

"I suppose that is one way of putting it, but I generally prefer the term challenging." agreed Zeller.

"Of course." he acknowledged. As Doctor Zeller began to open the first of her containers, Phlox asked her, "You do realize that space is limited, right, Astrid?"

"The thought has not left my mind in days." she assured him.

"Just as long as you know."

"Phlox, how about going for a walk while I do this? I'll mind the shop while you're gone." she said, frowning severely at him.

"Your wish is my command." he muttered, tottering out of sickbay with the understanding that she didn't want him underfoot while she did her unpacking. 

For her part, Astrid was surprised that he left willingly and without complaint. She could have used some help with her chore, but she knew that if she wanted the job done right, she would indeed have to do it herself.


	7. Chapter 7

ETA Ohniaka system: three hours

 

When Doctor Zeller began enlisting members of the ship's auxiliary medical personnel for her team, she found herself thoroughly convinced that the human race was devolving. They were all incredibly young and though they were Star Fleet personnel, their education still seemed questionable, especially in the area of communicable diseases and the treatment thereof. Anyone else in her position would certainly have caved at that point and ask Doctor Phlox for assistance, but she wasn't just anyone. She was the celebrated Doctor Astrid Zeller of Star Fleet Medical, and she could make do with under-qualified personnel just so long as they were human.

She knew Phlox's opinions of these individuals. They would all make fine doctors one day, he had told her more than once that morning as she prepped her equipment and had the five crewmen running errands or doing the same. He seemed particularly impressed with this slightly obnoxious Cutler girl who studied bugs and seemed need constant guidance and reassurance. 

Zeller was hoping fervently that the situation on the research station had not deteriorated to the point where she would need to depend on these people for more than rudimentary lab work and menial tasks. She had high hopes than she would be able to analyze the disease, come up with a treatment, administer it, and do everything necessary on her own. With any luck she would come out of this thing a hero and catch the next ship home be it the Enterprise or a ghastly Vulcan cruiser. It didn't matter because she knew that if all went well, she would have laurels waiting for her back in San Francisco and more ears to hear to her theories than ever before.

"Astrid?" questioned Phlox to get her attention, which seemed to have wandered as she watched two crewmen calibrating tricorders.

"Yes?" she asked, looking slightly annoyed as she turned toward him.

"I have been informed that the Enterprise will be docking with the station, unless, of course, you would recommend using the shuttlepods instead."

"To prevent spread of the disease? I hardly think that will be necessary. The airlock system and decontamination process should be sufficient." Zeller assured him.

"If you say so." acquiesced Phlox.

Astrid laughed softly and asked, "What is it, Phlox? Don't you think I can handle this thing?"

"It isn't that, but if I were in charge, it would be my preference to keep the station under quarantine at least until I had a better idea of what I was dealing with there." he explained.

"Quarantine? You aren't serious." she said with a quizzical expression. "That's blowing everything out of proportion. At worst this is probably just some kind of exotic alien fever."

"Perhaps I am just more cautious." said Phlox with an anxious smile.

"That you are." she agreed.

 

About two hours later Doctor Zeller was summoned to the bridge, leaving Ensign Knight in charge of the final preparations. Phlox didn't miss her disgusted sigh as she dashed through the sickbay doors. Astrid wasn't accustomed to such perceived affronts to her position and status. From what he knew of her, Astrid had always been that way and showed no signs of change. By the time she reached the bridge she was genuinely annoyed.

On the bridge Archer turned in his chair when he heard the lift doors whisk open. Doctor Zeller did not appear to be pleased. The captain glanced at the view screen and motioned for her to step forward.

"I thought you might like a peek at the fourth planet of the Ohniaka system, doctor." he told Zeller.

On the screen was a dark gray planet with large, irregular ice caps. Silhouetted against the northern polar cap was a metallic structure that bore a resemblance to those built within the solar system, although Zeller could pick out traces of elements that appeared Vulcan in design. It was small against the background of the slowly spinning gray orb.

"Thank you, captain." she said, admiring the view. She had anticipated going to a dreary little place without an at all pleasant vista. This, on the other hand, looked quite interesting at least from the exterior. "How long until docking procedures are initiated?" she questioned absently.

"About an hour." confirmed Captain Archer, watching her as she stood with her eyes glued to the view screen. He couldn't resist. "I think everyone should have an opportunity to see things like this. Don't you, doctor?" he questioned.

She blinked and scowled at him before asking, "Do you really want to open Pandora's box here and now, captain?"

Most of the bridge crew turned and looked at them before their commanding officer answered, "No, I suppose not."

"Then I will be returning to sickbay if there is nothing else on your mind." she said, giving him what could be considered a withering look.

"I'm sure you have preparations to make. Go right ahead." Archer told Doctor Zeller by way of dismissing her from the bridge.

 

Astrid had mixed feelings about her few minutes on the bridge. On one hand Ohniaka Four was quite stunning to behold. She had had little opportunity to see planets from space. In fact she had seen only earth, Jupiter, and Vulcan from such a position. On the other hand she disliked the way Archer had treated her. She wasn't one of his twenty-year-old crewmen, after all. Astrid had the uncomfortable feeling that he had gained the upper hand. She pushed that thought from her mind, seething nonetheless. Star Fleet Command would hear all about this ill-mannered Jonathan Archer and his treatment of her when she got back to earth. And they would not be pleased.

When she walked back into sickbay a few minutes later, it was like a twentieth century zoo or a train station from the same era. How could six people bustle so inefficiently? It was her soft sound of displeasure and frustration that alerted Phlox to her presence as he assisted Crewman Cutler with packing Doctor Zeller's medical kit. He smiled appeasingly as she walked through the sickbay, giving curt orders to her hand-picked team.

"Don't put that there! Stopping shaking that! It isn't a toy! Close that container! Put that away this instant!" she barked, walking from one crewman to another.

"Astrid, please, they are doing their best." Phlox told her.

"This ship will probably be docking within the next half hour. I need everything ready. If they can't understand that, then I should probably handle all of it myself." she said firmly, almost daring him to defy her.

"But, Astrid, they are only hu ..." Phlox began to tell her, but he never finished.

The sound of the slap resounded throughout the busy sickbay. The bustling, panicked rush to have everything done on time screeched to a halt as the overburdened crewmen looked up from their assigned tasks. Phlox turned away from her, grimacing and holding his cheek with one hand as he steadied himself against the wall with the other. He groped for something to say, but nothing would come. Zeller simply stood there, half amazed that she had struck him and half filled with rage at the perceived insult. The pain in his eyes was all too evident and too human as he looked up at her. She straightened her shoulders, glanced at the dumbfounded personnel who were staring at her and walked away, grabbing a prepared medical kit as she went out, no doubt heading for the docking hatch.

"Don't just stand there." said Phlox awkwardly, removing his hand from his cheek. "We still have work to do." he told them.

Crewman Cutler started to say something, but he silenced her with a pleading look and a quick shake of his head. He didn't want to make a scene, even if Astrid didn't care. Whatever he might have thought of Zeller, she was still a doctor with patients who needed her assistance. Everything else could wait until later. Phlox was a professional whether Astrid was or not. He rubbed his burning cheek one more time and began assembling an additional medical kit, just in case she or anyone else should require it.

 

Astrid didn't stop walking until she reached the docking area. The ship had yet to initiate docking procedures. She set the heavy kit down on the floor and took a seat in the empty corridor. Astrid wondered what they were saying about her in sickbay. She had sized Phlox up a long time ago. He wouldn't go to his superiors, at least not right away, but she knew that everyone else would be talking about her temper in no time. It had been a gut reaction, nothing more. It was instinctual. No one else in her position could have tolerated the barb.

"Only human." she murmured. How could he say that as though it were a bad thing? Astrid couldn't say for certain as her temper cooled whether there had been genuine malice behind the remark.

"Attention all hands, brace for docking procedures." said a voice over the comm system.

The ship trembled ever-so-slightly as the Enterprise docked with science station three. Astrid clambered to her feet and put everything else out of her mind as she stood in front of the door to airlock. According to the last report she received, she had thirty-two patients waiting for her on the station and very little information to go on as to how to treat them. It could prove to be very simple or quite a challenge. By the time the door was ready to open, Astrid Zeller felt ready for either eventuality.

 

Phlox put the rest of the auxiliary personnel on stand-by when he realized that Astrid wasn't taking them to the station with her. They could be ready at a moment's notice, so there was no need for them to hang around sickbay for what would surely be several hours. Unlike her fellow crew members, Crewman Cutler elected to remain behind.

"Are you sure that you wouldn't rather have a meal or something while you wait, crewman?" questioned the Denobulan doctor uncomfortably.

"Phlox, you always talk with us, with the younger crewmen, whenever something happens." she hesitated.

He touched the side of his face again and said, "No, thank you, crewman. I think Astrid and I will probably work this out later."

"I understand, doctor." nodded Cutler.

"Is it bruising?" he asked her, turning his head slightly.

"Surprisingly, it's not. Do you want anything for it? Anaprovalin? Bat bile?" she questioned.

He chuckled softly, understanding the humor, before telling her, "No, crewman, I think I can manage without it."

"Tell me something, Phlox, do you really think that Doctor Zeller is going to handle everything herself?" asked Cutler with a skeptical look.

"She will try. That is certain. But whether she will succeed or not is unknown. For all of her many faults, she is very capable and strong willed." he answered frankly.

"Then why bother assembling a team?"

"So many questions, crewman! I would suppose that she will require some people to perform some of the more complicated lab tests that can only be done here or to do some of the less interesting work on the station, but it may be tomorrow or the next day before she asks for any such assistance." he explained.

"But why is she like that? I mean, I know about her xenophobia and all, but ..." questioned Cutler, shaking her head.

"Why doesn't she want to work with all of you?" asked Phlox with a small sigh. Crewman Cutler nodded in response. "It's just her personality, I suppose. Some of our program colleagues, Doctor Zeller, and I shared a laboratory for a few days. She did everything in her power to keep all of us away from the work and doing other things while she ran the lab. Astrid used a good deal of finesse with our human colleagues and intimidation with me, although after having played chess with her for sometime, I expected no less really." he explained.

"That doesn't really answer my question." said Cutler.

"Perhaps it is simply best to say that Doctor Zeller prefers to do as much as possible herself because she doesn't trust anyone else to do it the right way, or rather, her way."

"So she's perfectionist?" asked the young crewman, trying to understand.

Phlox smiled and said, "I believe you have put it in better terms than I ever could have."

"What are you going to do about her, Phlox?"

"Unfortunately, there isn't anything I can do. I could make a report of some kind, but why bother? She is very well esteemed by her superiors and colleagues back on earth, at least those who have never worked side by side with her. As for her personality, crewman, I think it is a little late for any significant change. It will probably be easier for all of us if we just work around that obstacle." he told Cutler.

"Now that certainly answers my question." she chuckled, just shaking her head.


	8. Chapter 8

The interior of the science station was shadowy and gray, much like that of the Enterprise, though substantially darker by Doctor Zeller's estimation. A product of joint fleet operations with the Vulcans and intended for use by both races prior to the disaster at P'Jem, the station had both a certain familiarity and a certain inconsistency its design. Perhaps no one but Astrid Zeller would have picked up on the subtle Vulcan elements, which were more aesthetic, or anti-aesthetic, than technological. She found it displeasing.

Astrid thought it strange that no one came immediately to greet her. The reports had led her to believe that at least a few members of the station's crew could still man their stations. Had that changed in the past twelve hours or was it merely an oversight on their part?

When she left the docking area of the station, the sound of slow, shuffling steps reached her ears. Walking vaguely in their direction, she soon found herself face to face with a grim, pale man in a Star Fleet uniform, leaning heavily on a makeshift cane, which had in a former life been a slender piece of a bulkhead. He coughed softly as he leaned on the support.

"I am Doctor Zeller. Can I assume that you are in charge here?" she asked him, straightening her own uniform, which she had elected to wear that day, exchanging her civilian clothing for the attire of an Academy doctor.

"Lieutenant Alonso Nogales, doctor, and I suppose if anyone here is still in charge, then I am." he told her.

"Good." she nodded curtly. "I want to see my patients now."

"Of course." agreed Nogales, motioning for her to follow him down the corridor. "Our medical facility is rather small, so all but the worst cases have been restricted to quarters. Everyone, of course, is very ill, but some of us have had to keep the station running, regardless of our condition." he continued to explain as they walked.

"So I've heard." she acknowledged. "How many patients do I have?" she questioned, asking him as tactfully as she knew how.

"Thirty-one, doctor. We lost another crewman this morning." he replied, shaking his head.

"Do you mind quickly going over the common symptoms with me, lieutenant?" she asked as they stepped aboard a lift.

"Fever, coughing, and loss of appetite were the first symptoms that we were aware of. At first our doctor believed that it was just a common cold or perhaps influenza. Then a few days later he was dead. Everyone else become to exhibit symptoms around that time as well, although some cases have been more severe than others."

"Additional symptoms?" she questioned, momentarily wondering if the man had a medical background.

"Weakness in the extremities, general fatigue, and several mild instances of convulsions." he answered.

"Followed no doubt by coma and death." she commented.

"Then you know the disease." said Nogales with some relief.

"It is some manner of exotic fever, doubtlessly alien in origin, but I cannot be more specific." Astrid told him as they stepped from the lift. That had been her original assessment, and it had not changed.

"But you do believe that you can find a cure for us, doctor?" the lieutenant questioned as he led her toward the medical facility.

"Of course." Astrid chuckled confidently as she followed.

 

Doctor Zeller had read hundreds of text books and studies regarding the conditions in hospitals during the times of great plagues and epidemics on earth and on Vulcan. She almost felt bad calling the outbreak of disease on science station three an epidemic, but it had infected one hundred percent of the population. What else could she be expected to call it? When she followed Lieutenant Nogales into the small infirmary that day, Astrid was nevertheless unprepared for what awaited for her. Six patients, all of whom seemed to coughing painfully and intermittently, had been wedged into a room expected to hold only three. A pair of them looked slightly jaundiced. One was obviously nearly unconscious, possibly approaching a comatose state. These were merely six of her thirty patients, and Astrid felt very much overwhelmed.

Then she took a deep, calming breath and told Nogales, "This will never do, lieutenant. Do you have an area, a cargo bay or perhaps an empty storage area, that can be converted into a field hospital?" She fell back on the antiquated jargon as mental images of the World War I Spanish Influenza epidemic came unbidden to her mind.

"Large enough for thirty people, doctor?" he questioned skeptically.

"Or perhaps two rooms that are close together?"

"The main shuttle bay and the mess hall might do it." he said.

"Then as soon as I attended to these patients, we should begin setting up that hospital. Assuming, of course, that you are well enough to work."

"Four of us still list ourselves as able-bodied and on active duty. I will have them begin clearing out the areas you wish to use."

"And moving patients in." she added for him in a tone that did not invite discussion.

"Of course." nodded Nogales.

"And have someone patch me through to the Enterprise. I will be needing supplies and perhaps additional personnel." she said, though not quite ready to admit defeat.

"Anything else?" questioned the lieutenant as he coughed quietly and leaned on his cane.

"That will be all for now. Report back here as soon as you can. I will have to do something about that cough if we are going to be working together." she told him.

 

Phlox was worried. That was understandable, given everything that he knew about Astrid Zeller, but it showed all too plainly on his face and that made the young crewmen nervous as they walked with him to the airlock. Zeller had contacted the Enterprise an hour earlier, requesting that her people and supplies be sent over immediately. That did not include Phlox, of course, but he walked with the medical personnel to the docking area nonetheless. The request had come suspiciously soon. It meant that Astrid was scared, frightened even. It was uncharacteristic of her in so many ways, and that caused Phlox considerable concern.

He glanced at Crewman Cutler who was walking at his side, carrying two heavy kits with one in each hand. Her face was grim, as though she intuited the same thing that he did, that something was obviously wrong. Phlox momentarily contemplated holding her back and sending someone older and more experienced. She had no special expertise in medicine. She had merely been chosen, almost at random, from the roster of available personnel. He sighed softly and decided against the idea. Cutler would resent the loss of opportunity.

As the group of medical personnel approached the docking area, Phlox was surprised to find Captain Archer waiting for them there. He looked quizzically at the chief medical officer. He had not expected to see him there.

"Captain." the doctor acknowledged, his voice only hinting at the apprehension he felt. It was enough to tip off Archer, even if he didn't immediately let on.

"Phlox, are they ready to go in there?" he questioned, nodding toward the airlock separating the ship and the station.

"They are as ready as they will ever be, sir." said Phlox with a forced, but nevertheless pleasant smile.

"You have my permission to go over there and assist, if you want to do it, Phlox." said the captain, making his feelings on the matter abundantly clear. "I imagine she will be happy to have all the help she can get before the is done." he added.

"Oh, no, captain. I wouldn't dream of stepping on Doctor Zeller's toes in this matter." said Phlox with what sounded like a nervous chuckle. Turning back to the medical team, he told asked them, "What are you waiting for? Go on." Phlox motioned them toward the airlock.

When the doors had closed behind the five crewmen, Archer asked, "So what's happened over there? Hoshi said that Zeller seemed nervous when she called for assistance."

Phlox leaned against the bulkhead and shrugged stiffly before telling him, "I haven't seen any data yet, but I imagine that Doctor Zeller has been caught off guard. Her intention, I believe, was to treat everyone over there herself. She is what Crewman Cutler calls a perfectionist. I am quite surprised that she has asked for anything at this point."

"I see." nodded Captain Archer, frowning. "Worried?"

"Yes, captain, I think I am, but only time will tell if my concern is warranted." he answered.

"I don't think Doctor Zeller is going to bend over backwards to keep me informed. So would you mind keeping me posted on the situation?" Archer asked.

"Of course, captain, presuming that Astrid is willing to relay any pertinent information to me either." said Phlox.

 

The expectations of the medical team were that they would be filling hyposprays, taking samples, and possibly performing lab tests either in the 'field' or back aboard the Enterprise, but in reality they found themselves moving beds and setting up cots in the shuttle bay. It was a far cry from what they had anticipated, but they dutifully dropped off their medical kits at the small sickbay where Astrid continued to treat the worst cases of the disease and then proceeded to help put together a field hospital in the two large rooms of the station.

As Crewman Cutler and Ensign Knight worked together to assemble cots in the mess hall, which had been emptied of tables and chairs, Knight questioned, "Why not just move everyone to the Enterprise? The sickbay would be a far better place to treat patients than this."

"Yeah, but if this is an airborne virus or something, then Phlox and Zeller would have almost one hundred and ten people infected instead of just thirty-seven." Cutler pointed out to her as they struggled with the metal frame of the makeshift bed.

"That's including us, right?" asked Knight with a short laugh.

"All in the line of duty." answered Cutler.

"Right." said the ensign, barely containing the urge to roll her eyes. If something had to happen to her in the line of duty, she would much rather it do so onboard the Enterprise, under the command of Captain Archer, and not on an away mission with this demented and xenophobic Doctor Zeller.

"Five more to go." said Cutler with an encouraging smile as they finished assembling the cot.

"And then what? I can't imagine Doctor Zeller actually asking us to help with the real work."

"I heard something about setting up data pads to keep track of vitals and so forth." shrugged Cutler, understanding all too well the frustration that the young ensign felt.

"Well, that's something at least." sighed Knight as she watched two crewmen carry an obviously very heavy bunk into the mess hall. "Bend at the knees, guys." she called to them.

 

The hours passed uneasily for the doctor who remained onboard the Enterprise. He played a few lackluster games of chess against himself as he waited for word from Astrid or from the members of the medical team that had received communicators as a precaution. Phlox wanted his people to have a connection to the ship that could not be easily compromised by mechanical failure on the station nor by Doctor Zeller's stubbornness. It was easily midnight before the device on his desk beeped, alerting him of an incoming message from the medical team.

"Phlox here." he answered.

"How much Anaprovalin would you recommend for a stiff back, doctor?" inquired Crewman Cutler, sounding uncharacteristically surly.

"Have you been on your feet all day, crewman?" he inquired with some sympathy.

"No, I've been assembling and rearranging the furniture." she informed him.

"Just you?"

"All of us actually."

"You have my sincere condolences, but I suppose someone had to do it." he sighed, finding perhaps a little humor in the crewman's irritation. "How is it over there?" he inquired more seriously.

Cutler was quiet for a moment before answering, "It reminds me of the hospital on Valakia, only it's kind of worse because the medical facilities here ... they just weren't meant to handle more than a few patients at a time."

"And how are the other members of the medical team handling the situation?" he questioned.

"They all wish that we were doing more." she replied.

"I understand, crewman, maybe by tomorrow you will be."

"It is tomorrow, Phlox."

"By morning then." he amended.

"Yeah, maybe." she chuckled tiredly.

"You wouldn't happen to have a progress report or anything of that nature to transmit, would you, crewman?" he asked, hoping to have something to tell the captain should he ask before morning.

"Sorry, Phlox, but none of us have had more than cursory contact with the patients." sighed Cutler.

"I see." he said slowly.

"It's getting late over here, Phlox, and Doctor Zeller ordered us all to get some shut eye." she told him.

"Have a good night then, crewman."

"I would sleep better in my own bed on the Enterprise." she answered with a dry laugh before closing the comm channel.

 

The non-critical patients had been moved to the shuttle bay and the mess hall by morning, although Doctor Zeller had not realized that night had already passed. The condition of her patients had been partially stabilized with hyposprays of Anaprovalin, but she still could not determine what disease afflicted them, save that it was similar to influenza, although far more virulent. Astrid had checked the medical database of Enterprise again and again without success. She needed more information and more time to gather it, but time was a precious commodity when it came to treating patients with high fevers.

It was with great reluctance that she transmitted the data she had collected to the sickbay on the Enterprise. And with tantamount reluctance, she also summoned her team to the medical bay of the station to give them their assignments and hand out tricorders. It was going to be quite demanding dealing with what she considered non-professionals, but the stakes were too high to avoid doing so.

When they tumbled into sickbay that morning, the five of them looked as though they had been awakened rather abruptly, which is exactly what had happened. Astrid frowned when she saw them, ruing that her selections could not have come from a larger and more qualified pool of candidates. They looked nervous and expectant, the lot of them, and she didn't particularly care for either characteristic in medical personnel. She was looking for confidence, for competence at least, in their gazes.

Little did Doctor Zeller realize that when they looked at her, they saw a tired, cranky, and arrogant doctor with little self-discipline and tact, who did indeed make them very nervous.

Zeller looked incredibly put out as she gave them their orders: "You will all grab your medical kits. Then two of you will proceed to monitor patients in the mess and two of you will do the same in the shuttle bay. One will remain here with me. Your assignment is to collect data that will help me in my diagnosis and treatment of these patients. You will also forward collected data to the Enterprise sickbay. This should not be difficult."

Then she looked at Crewman Cutler, who seemed substantially more awake and aware than the others, and informed her, "You will be the one who assists me personally, crewman."

Cutler suppressed an involuntary shudder and smiled benignly at the doctor, who gave her a case of the good, old-fashioned creeps, and collected her gear from the pile by the doorway as the others rushed to obey her orders. She wished in vain that she were going with them.

"Anywhere, but here." she thought with a soft sigh.

"I seem to recall that Phlox was training you himself, correct?" questioned Zeller, pressing a finely calibrated tricorder into the young crewman's hands. "You can leave your kit where it is." she interjected before Cutler could reply. "Well?" pressed Astrid, frowning at her.

"Yes, he was. He is. He's still training me." stammered Cutler, thrown very much off balance.

"Calm down, crewman. I didn't ask for you because of any aptitude that he may believe you to have. You won't be called upon to perform thoracic surgery. I just want someone competent enough to perform some data entry and statistical analysis for me." Zeller reassured her with considerable condescension.

The remarks made by Doctor Zeller were insulting, of course, but Cutler found some relief in them. She knew that she was significantly less qualified than Zeller. If the doctor had indeed required her to assist with surgical procedures, she would have been substantially out of her element. Nevertheless, the lack of tact exhibited by Zeller was also a little startling, despite the fact that she was rapidly being accustomed to it.

"Of course, doctor." Cutler mumbled.

"Then let's begin. We don't have all day." said Zeller curtly.


	9. Chapter 9

It was just after six in morning according to the ship's clock when Captain Archer walked into sickbay. Phlox was so engrossed in what he was reading that he didn't even hear Archer enter. It was the data from the science station that had garnered his complete attention. The information, a jumble of tricorder readings and symptomology, had been transmitted only an hour earlier, possibly in great haste and with an intangible sense of reluctance and necessity. Phlox could tell that they were Astrid's own findings, despite their chaotic nature.

"Doctor?" questioned the captain. "You had asked to see me?"

"You wanted to be kept posted on the situation." he reminded Archer. 

"Go ahead." nodded the captain, seeing discomfort and worry in the doctor's eyes.

"I just wanted to let you know that it doesn't look good at the moment. I have been reviewing the data that Doctor Zeller has chosen to share. This disease is like nothing I have ever seen, not that I have any expertise in this area of medicine. The symptoms are extremely variable, and the severity thereof seems to vary from person to person as well. Worst of all, she seems to be able to treat the symptoms only and not the disease." he explained.

"Are you telling me that this plague has no cure?" asked Archer incredulously.

"No, captain, certainly not. I am only saying that it may not be easy to find. But I have every confidence in Doctor Zeller and the medical team." said Phlox.

"And in the mean time, they are at risk too, right?" he questioned.

"Naturally, yes, they are, but I am sure that they are taking every precaution against contacting the disease." the doctor reassured him.

"Is there any way we can make this go more smoothly? Anything we can do to help them out?" questioned Archer.

Phlox smiled softly and told him, "I have found that when a lot of people look at the same information, they often arrive at different conclusions. Right now, we just need to concentrate on examining the findings of the medical team. The answers most likely lie in them."

The captain's eyes drifted to the computer console and he smiled as well when he realized what the doctor was telling him, which was to get out of sickbay and allow him to work, although it was put quite tactfully.

"If you need anything ..." he said.

"I will not hesitate to ask, captain."

"We're going to beat this thing before it gets out of hand over there." said Archer with a confident nod.

"Of course." agreed Phlox as he thought to himself, "The captain is wonderfully optimistic, but just how does one determine when this sort of thing becomes out of hand?"

 

It was many long hours later when Crewman Cutler, her arms filled with data pads containing information of various types, found herself at a computer terminal in a very quiet area of the science station. She had her orders: organize and transmit the data to the Enterprise sickbay. Cutler did not like what she was seeing as she downloaded the information into the station's computer. The condition of the patients was continuing to go downhill, despite the medical care that they were receiving. It was all Zeller could do to fight the fever. The statistics were grim. Two of the most critical patients had lapsed into a coma as their bodily systems faltered beneath the incredible strain. The lieutenant in charge, who seemed to have at least partial immunity or resistance to the illness, had started to succumb to simple fatigue. Cutler could hardly blame the man. He had held the station together for almost three weeks with precious little assistance.

She removed her communicator from the pocket where she kept in out of sight and out of mind from Doctor Zeller and set it on the desk next to her, deciding to contact Phlox.

"Phlox here." he answered, sounding less cheerful than he had been in several months.

"It's Cutler. I thought you might like to have a heads up." she told him as she continued to enter the data.

"I don't think I like the sound of that, crewman."

"I'm putting the data into the computer right now. If the link with the Enterprise is still good, you should have it soon."

"It is coming in already." Phlox informed her.

"Maybe I should go ahead and tell you that it isn't good news."

"Now, Crewman Cutler, I find it highly improbable that I would anticipating good news to transmitted in this fashion, especially given the situation." he admonished jokingly. Cutler's voice led him to believe that she was both very fatigued and disheartened. He wanted very much to cheer her up, but he didn't quite have it him at that moment.

"Yeah, but I thought you might appreciate the extra warning." she said in somber rebuttal.

"You aren't too worried, are you, crewman?" he questioned, couching a serious inquiry in more humorous tones.

"I don't know, Phlox. The outlook isn't so good from where I'm sitting. Doctor Zeller is supposed to be an expert, but this has her stumped. How is that supposed to make me feel?" she asked.

"Less than cozy, I am sure, but don't give up. With the additional information you've given me, I'm feel confident that one of us will stumble across the answer."

Cutler chuckled quietly. Phlox could almost hear her begin to relax, to return to her usual light-hearted disposition.

"That's reassuring!" she laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she transmitted the last of the data. "Thanks." Cutler added softly.

"Don't mention it, crewman. Just be careful over there."

"I will be very careful." she promised him.

 

Doctor Zeller had been prepared for a fight when she first ventured through the airlock and onto the science station, but she had not expected to fight a losing battle against a disease that was both alien and yet oddly familiar. At first she had believed that perhaps it was some strange variant of a disease from Rigel that could only be treated with ryetalyn, but the symptoms weren't quite right for Rigelian Fever. The absence of lesions or abscesses ruled that ailment out, which was probably for the best since she could not have treated it. Astrid went through dozens of hypotheses in the first twenty-four hours to no effect. It was still a mystery to her.

That ditsy young crewman that had performed the task of collecting, entering, and transmitting the first complete batch of patient readings had returned, having adequately completed her assigned chore. Astrid didn't know what to tell the poor girl other than instructing her to sit quietly in a corner. 

Zeller glanced at some samples she had taken and wondered how she would get them to the Enterprise with the least amount of risk to its crew. There was no question about it. She needed them analyzed, and the equipment aboard the ship was the best available for such an undertaking. Astrid would never have said it aloud, but she also credited Phlox with being a more than capable laboratory technician.

"Crewman, I would like a recommendation." she said evenly to Cutler, giving a patient a hypo of Anaprovalin for the severe pain that he was experiencing.

"Yes, doctor?" she questioned nervously.

"You know your ship better than I do. If you wanted to move these sealed sample containers from here to there, how would you go about doing it? Using the air lock system for a drop off or by a using a courier and the decon chamber?" she questioned. Her demeanor was still very proud, but something in her voice faltered ever-so-slightly as she spoke.

"Neither. I would try to use the transporter, doctor." replied Cutler with surprising speed and confidence.

"The what?" laughed Zeller skeptically.

"It's this thing on the Enterprise that ... well, I'm not sure exactly how it works, but it can move things from one place to another." she tried to explain.

"Ah, I believe I know what you mean. That maybe just what's needed here." said the doctor. "As long as the samples are sealed and handled with care on their end, this should be the ideal solution. I trust that you can make the arrangements, crewman." The condescension in her voice had lessened a great deal.

"Of course." nodded Cutler, springing from her seat.

"I need this taken care of within the hour." Zeller called after her as she stepped through the door of the infirmary.

 

The science station had been built with two shuttlepod bays and both a main and auxiliary docking area to accommodate visitors and cargo ships, but it was not equipped with a transporter. This set of circumstances made locking on to the sealed and disinfected container that held the samples the most difficult part of the procedure. After all, it would have been unfortunate to beam up a piece of the deck plating with the container.

Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed both smiled in relief when the crate appeared on the transporter pad, apparently intact and without any surprises. Phlox, who had been watching anxiously, stepped forward with a tricorder to make certain that no microbes or other unpleasant things had clung to the surface of the container. Then it was his turn to breathe a sigh of relief.

"It seems to be secure." he told the two officers operating the transporter as he lifted it from the pad.

"And why shouldn't it be?" asked Reed with an amused expression.

Before Phlox could reply, Tucker interjected a question of his own: "Doesn't it gall you to no end having to help that woman like this?"

"You are inferring, commander, that I am doing this for Doctor Zeller and not for the thirty or so patients over there. I assure you that they are my only concern." he told Trip. "Of course, I would be happier to do this for almost anyone else." Phlox added with a chuckle.

The lieutenant narrowed his eyes a little and asked, "But really, doctor, is she as bad as I've heard? My father ... growing up, I mean ... always hated people who were different. I thought everyone in Star Fleet was, you know, more enlightened than that."

The Denobulan chuckled quietly at the idealism of the armory officer and replied, "You are quite mistaken, lieutenant. Not everyone is, as you so aptly put it, enlightened, but I have always thought of Astrid Zeller as one bad piece of fruit in a very large cart. It is no secret that she disapproves of humans interacting with non-humans, but I imagine that the rumors are beginning to grow out of proportion with reality. Such is their nature."

"I will keep that in mind." said Malcolm thoughtfully.

"Don't let the doc kid you. He's just too polite to do any name calling, no matter how much she might deserve it." said Trip with a wink.

Phlox could sense that a lengthy, albeit it heartening debate was about to begin and held up a hand before telling them, "Now, gentlemen, we all have duties to which we must attend. Perhaps we can save this discussion until the crisis has passed."

"Of course." nodded Reed in polite agreement as Phlox excused himself. Turning to Trip he asked the commander, "How could anyone harbor ill will toward him? He's a decent fellow through and through."

"I've got to agree with you there. I would have been perfectly content to stand here bad-mouthing her until the cows come home, and goodness knows she deserves it, but not Phlox. The only thing on his mind are those sick people over on the station."

"He is very different from us, but we have one important thing in common." agreed Malcolm.

"What's that?"

"Our humanity." said Reed with an ironic smile.

 

Hoshi had informed Archer of the large data transfers from the station and Reed had let him know about the successful transportation of the samples, but the captain wanted to see the progress for himself, which is why he found himself in sickbay that same evening. Phlox was bent over a medical instrument connected to a small isolation chamber when he entered. The doctor glanced up from his work when the doors closed with an audible hiss.

"Captain." he acknowledged.

"What's the word, doctor?" Archer inquired.

"Virus. That's the first one that came to mind anyway." said Phlox, reviewing the results of a test that he had just performed. "Of course, that was Doctor Zeller's opinion as well." he added.

"Meaning?" questioned the captain.

"More research, more tests." shrugged Phlox. The he smiled and said, "But I can rule out most alien viruses in the available databases. She is too thorough to have missed any of them as a possible cause."

"Which means that ...?" Archer asked, trying to elicit a more cohesive response from the busy and distracted physician.

"It is most likely Terran in origin."

"From earth?"

"That's the general idea."

"But, wait a minute, Phlox. Wouldn't she have, you know, checked human diseases first?"

"Not Doctor Zeller."

Archer chuckled and rubbed his eyes before saying, "I guess being xenophobic does have certain draw backs."

"Indeed, but save your gloating until I have identified the virus. I could be wrong, after all." cautioned Phlox.

"How long until you're certain then?"

"Unfortunately, it may take as long as forty-eight hours."

"And then?"

"The hunt for a cure, captain, which I can assure you will prove to be quite an ordeal, regardless of what disease this may be."

"Why is that?"

"Infectious disease among humans is rarer now than ever before. In turn that means that methods of treating such diseases have become ... antiquated, outdated. History meets medicine, so to speak."

"I guess you have your work cut out for you, doc."

"And so does Astrid. I don't believe all of her patients will live to see the day that we find a cure."


	10. Chapter 10

Two days later ...

 

Thirty-one patients had dwindled to twenty-six in approximately fifty hours, or a little more than two days according to the station's clock. The most critical patients had died from a combination of renal failure and the fever's effect on the brain. Other victims of the disease had taken their places in sickbay, which was being used as an intensive care area. The medical team, primarily due to their constant exposure, was beginning to exhibit early symptoms of contracting the virus, despite the fact that Doctor Zeller was keeping all of them pumped full of Anaprovalin and other substances to keep the illness at bay. It simply wasn't working. Nothing was working.

The long hours and difficult conditions were beginning to take their toll on the doctor. She occasionally reminded herself that falling victim of fatigue and thereby providing an already weakened host to the virus was not an acceptable course of action. The friendly lieutenant who had greeted her upon arrival had become one of her most critical patients in a few days' time because of those factors. Members of her own staff were dividing their time between tending patients and running the station with the help of automated systems and the Enterprise. Astrid was well aware of the hopeless look in the eyes of some of them. They didn't believe that they would be going home, going back to their star ship, alive.

But then there was her personal aid, Crewman Elizabeth Cutler, who was a pillar of strength to her crew mates, despite her own misgivings and fears. Zeller could see through the veneer of confidence, but not without acknowledging how brave the young woman was. Two days had been long enough to make Zeller realize that for all her gaping inadequacies, Cutler was one of the best crewmen to have around in a crisis. She had seen the ravages of disease before, on some distant and unimportant planet called Valakia, and she was not afraid. Zeller had a certain grudging respect for that. Of course, she knew that Cutler had a hand-held communications devise, which she used to keep in contact with Phlox, but that did not diminish her respect. Everyone needed an anchor, even if that anchor was an alien.

The chief medical officer of the Enterprise had become something of a nuisance to Zeller, although she did not doubt that the feeling was mutual. He had a strange theory that the illness was one native to earth and had somehow found its way into space. Granted, her research on widely known alien ailments had turned up nothing, but Phlox was truly going out on a limb to suggest the humans had carried a plague into space with them. The idea troubled Zeller profoundly, but most viruses native to earth could not stand up to the various medicines she had given her patients. She could not name a single common infectious disease that was not snuffed out with a simple treatment of Anaprovalin, much less tryptophan-lysine distillates. But she did acknowledge privately that they medicines were discovered long after the era of epidemics, which meant that their effectiveness against such diseases was questionable.

When Astrid looked at her quickly fading patients, and into the young faces of her medical team, she knew that she needed a miracle, so did not discourage the Denobulan in his quest for a virus with its origin on earth. She did not halt her ceaseless search through the medical databases either. Two heads were better than one in such circumstances. On that, everyone involved could agree. Her instincts told her, however, that she was facing a terrible disease from an alien planet, possibly one that had been engineered for destructive purposes, as frightening as that seemed. How else could its devastating effect upon the human body be explained?

Another small concern tugged at the corners of the inimitable Doctor Zeller's mind as she researched and tended her patients. She could feel the effects of the disease beginning to slow her down, despite the best treatment options available. Her throat tingled, though she was not coughing yet, and the sickbay always felt too warm. Astrid knew that she would succumb before her medical staff by virtue of having the most contact with the afflicted. Who would resolve the matter if she could not? Phlox was certainly in no position to find a cure. The medical team, while more competent than previously believed, was not made up of qualified professionals, and they too were going to become quite ill if the disease could not be successfully treated soon. No one would be in very good position, it seemed, if she did not succeed before the illness rendered her useless.

 

The captain watched him from a seat well out of the doctor's way. The Denobulan physician looked tired, exhausted, and absolutely worn out. He had been working nonstop for several days. If Phlox had been human, he would have certainly have collapsed from fatigue. There was no doubt about it. Archer felt a surge of empathy as he watched the doctor rub his eyes and take deep breath. He was under so much pressure. It was incredible that he could bear it.

"Are you all right, doc? You look like you could use some rest. A couple of hours would probably do you a world of good." suggested Archer.

Phlox smiled softly and told him, "But I have this feeling. I feel as though I am so close to having the answer. A little more analysis, a little more reading."

"Have you eaten today, Phlox?" questioned the captain.

The doctor blinked and shook his head, telling Archer, "Believe me, captain, I will get something soon, when I find ..."

"The answers you're looking for. I understand ... I admire your dedication, but if you leave sickbay for an hour or so, you can come back with a fresh perspective. Sometimes that's more helpful than anything."

"You really think so, captain?"

"I'm almost positive." Archer answered, standing and gesturing toward the door. "And, if you don't mind, I think I will join you, doctor."

 

It was long after most of the crew had dined that evening when Phlox and Archer ventured into the quiet mess hall. Even as the doctor ate his meal, the captain almost imagined that he could hear gears turning as Phlox continued to ponder the problem of the mysterious disease. Archer understood how many lives were at state, including the lives of some of his best crewmen, but he also knew that everyone was doing their best and that the doctor did not bear the burden alone.

"Captain, if you were searching for information on viral infections of this nature, where would you look?" questioned doctor as he ate.

Archer was stumped by the inquiry for a moment. Medicine was hardly his area of expertise. But he knew why Phlox was asking him. He was human, for one thing, and he had an outsider, non-medical perspective for another.

"Well, actually I would go to you for this kind of thing." Archer admitted.

The captain thought he saw a glimmer of pride in the doctor's eyes, but Phlox shook his head and said, "Let's say that I'm not available."

"I guess I would check all the medical and biological databases. Then ... maybe the history books. Epidemics were a big deal at one time." mused Archer. "Before the Second World War disease was still running rampant over a significant portion of the globe." he added.

"You mean your historical texts would have accounts of various epidemics and outbreaks of disease?" questioned Phlox as though the idea had never occurred to him.

"Maybe not every epidemic ever, but some of the larger ones." nodded Captain Archer.

"That is most fortuitous. If you will excuse me, captain, I think I should find my way back to sickbay and begin pursuing this avenue of inquiry." said Phlox, beginning to stand.

"Go ahead, Phlox, but at least take the plate with you." sighed Archer, gesturing toward the half eaten meal.

 

Doctor Zeller was making her last rounds of the night, intended to put her mind at ease before attempting to get some much needed, if not well deserved, sleep. Her arrogant smirk had softened somewhat to an unhappy little sneer as Astrid walked the corridors between the sickbay where Cutler slept on a cot in the corner, ever at her disposal, and the two additional rooms containing the ill where her other helpers were sleeping by shifts with the lights dimmed. If she could have, if it had been either feasible or possible, she would have let them go, allowed them to convalesce in their own beds on the Enterprise, but it was neither of those things. Not only were they contagious, they were also still very much needed, though she seldom had the presence of mind or courage to tell them so.

At this point Astrid wasn't certain who she was checking on before seeking her own bed, a sturdy little cot in what was once the stellar cartography lab. Was it her official patients or was it the medical team? Many of the station personnel had almost been stabilized, but the Enterprise crew members were slowly worsening. Knight looked slightly jaundiced, even in the dim lighting. The two male crew members were demonstrating a severe loss of appetite. They would need supplements soon or fatigue would begin to set in like a gangrene of the will, responding to their incredible expenditure of energy without taking in calories to replenish themselves. But that wasn't what was killing them all. It was the unrelenting, unabating fever that was doing so. And by her estimation it would completely finish the job in no more than ten days.

When she entered the main shuttle bay, she was mildly surprised to see both crewmen stationed there wide awake and standing over a makeshift bed. They both turned when they heard her enter. Doctor Zeller saw it on their faces before they had the chance to speak. They had another patient that needed to be moved to sickbay for treatment that simply could not be provided in that non-clinical environment.

"There isn't any room." she said quietly, her voice having lost its edge.

"But ..." began Crewman Monroe, glancing back and forth between Zeller and their patient. "He's lapsed into unconsciousness. The fever ... Doctor?"

"The bio beds are all full and so are the two cots. Give him another ten cc's of Anaprovalin and turned him on his side if he begins to experience convulsions." she told him firmly, glancing at the young officer on the cot as well.

"Can't you do something, doctor?"

"I'm not a miracle worker, crewman. Just do as I ask, and one of you should get some sleep." she replied.

The look in their eyes said more than they would have dared to say aloud in her presence. The expression was one of hopelessness on the very verge of despair. Astrid had never, for all of her laboratory experience and knowledge from books, been in an actual plague hospital environment before. It left her unprepared. She did not know what to tell them, whether to lie or be truthful, whether to rally their spirits or give them the cold, hard facts. Zeller only knew that she was supposed to say something to two weak-kneed twenty-something's staring at her like she had all the answers.

Astrid looked at them and shook her head before turning and walking away. As the door closed behind her, one of the crewman simply stated, "That settles it. We are all going to die here."

Zeller did not hear the comment as she walked hurriedly to the lab that was substituting for quarters. She could only hear the thudding of her boots on the deck and her heart beating wildly in her chest. Astrid was abundantly aware that she should have told them something, but her thoughts were like grains of sand churning through a vast hour glass and then scattering upon the wind. Her confidence in her own intellect and ability was faltering. But if she did not have the answers, the ways and the means, who did? She was all alone and without a solution to the dilemma. Her laurels were turning to ashes around her.

"So much for peace of mind." thought Astrid Zeller as she entered the lab and sat down on the cot, too disturbed and beleaguered to fall asleep.

 

The sound of a quietly, yet persistently beeping communicator awaken Crewman Cutler during the earliest hours of the morning. At first she didn't want to untangle herself from her blanket to answer it, but she knew that it was Phlox and that he would worry if she failed to acknowledge. She stumbled from her bunk to the corridor before answering so as not to disturb the patients who were managing to slumber despite their high fevers and persistent coughing.

"Cutler here." she said hoarsely, keeping her voice low. Her throat sounded raw in her own ears. The medications were barely keeping the symptoms at bay.

"I am sorry to wake you, crewman." said Phlox apologetically.

"No, don't worry about. It isn't a problem." she told him.

"I think I have managed to identify the disease." he said with an almost audible smile. "I'm transferring all of the data I could come up with to the station's computer." Phlox added.

"Don't keep me in suspense!" she said, immediately feeling wide awake and much better as she began walking toward the nears communications station.

"Have you ever heard of something called Yellow Fever?" he inquired.

Cutler stopped in her tracks and asked, "It was a tropical plague or something hundreds and hundreds of years ago on earth, right?"

"Tropical, yes. Plague, certainly. But I am afraid that we are dealing with the here and now, crewman." replied Phlox.

"But this is good news. There is a cure for this fever, right? I mean, there has to be." said Cutler.

"Actually, there was a vaccine. I can not find a cure for Yellow Fever on record anywhere. I think most humans of the era when the disease was common either died because of it or had some sort of limited, genetic predisposition for immunity or resistance." Phlox explained to her.

"I don't think I like where this is going." she commented, taking a seat at a computer terminal.

"You shouldn't."

"Okay, Phlox, if the human body eventually learned to resist the disease ..." she began to say, formulating an intelligent question.

"Only those who lived in areas of constant exposure developed this trait, and I am ... sorry to say that the genetic advantage has probably diminished after so many generations with adequate medical care." he corrected.

"Right ... So how did they treat it back then?"

"They did exactly what Doctor Zeller is doing, although with less sophisticated medications."

Crewman Cutler groaned aloud and asked, "You mean just giving them something for the fever and discomfort?"

"And letting the virus runs its course." Phlox added.

"But we can't do that. We have people dying over here." said Cutler, her hands beginning shake.

"No, we aren't going to sit idly by and let ... many of the patients die." Phlox assured her, not wanting to quote grim statistics to the impressionable young crewman.

"Then what are we going to do?"

"We are going to succeed where nineteenth and twentieth century medical sciences failed. We will find a cure." said Phlox with immeasurable determination in his voice.

 

Doctor Zeller was tossing and turning uneasily in her sleep when a soft rapping upon the door startled her into wakefulness. She flexed her fingers nervously as she noticed a mild tingling sensation when she rose from her improvised bunk unhappily to answer the door. When she found Crewman Cutler standing outside her quarters with a data pad in hand, her heart sank.

"Which one?" she questioned, wanting to know which patient had died and holding out her hand for the pad.

"None of them." said Cutler quickly, still unsure as how to best handle the doctor.

"Then what the hell can you possibly want at this hour?" asked Zeller her personality showing through her illness and fatigue.

"It's Yellow Fever, doctor." said the crewman, pressing the pad into Zeller's hand. 

All of the information was there from the files, reports, readings, and tests that Phlox had transmitted from the Enterprise to a probable history of transmission that Cutler had compiled herself using passenger manifests and other transit information. It traced the disease from the ship's doctor to earth where he had recently visited a friend at a clinic in the jungles of Africa, carrying the virus from a remote corner of their home planet to space.

"You must be joking, crewman. How would that particular disease wind up here? There are no mosquitoes on a space station for one thing." she answered.

"It's all on the data pad, doctor." she replied, cowed by the very formidable Doctor Zeller.

"I will look it over, but don't get your hopes up. This kind of thing is never solved by amateurs, you know."

"Of course not, doctor, but we need to examine every possibility." said Cutler, recognizing the dual insult flung at both Phlox and at herself.

"That's correct, crewman, but right now we both need to examine the possibility of getting a good night's sleep, for our patients' sake." said Astrid in condescending tones.

"Yes, doctor." said Cutler.

 

The report was thorough, and obviously a collaboration with her alien counterpart on the Enterprise. Astrid was startled, to say the least, by the rather convincing case present on the data pad. The evidence that the disease afflicting the inhabitants of the station and the medical team was Yellow Fever was surprisingly credible. At first Astrid had suspected that it was a harebrained hypothesis put together by an alien physician, desperate to prove that the disease wasn't also alien in origin, and his favorite naive crewman and protÃ©gÃ©. But the more of the report she read, the more probable it seemed that they were right, that it was the ancient earth disease of Yellow Fever that her patients were suffering from.

Astrid sighed heavily and hung her head as she finished looking over the findings. Even if the problem had been identified, they were still a long way from finding a solution. If only she had realized what they were getting into in the beginning, then she could have easily come up with the vaccine and saved the medical team considerable grief. As it stood, she was uncertain of what her next move should be against so formidable an opponent. She was definitely going to verify the information she had received, but what then? 

She had spent years and years filing head full of facts and figures regarding epidemics on earth. Doctor Zeller was firmly grounded in both the treatment and study of such things, but in all of her career, she had never imagined treating a tropical fever of earth origin in space. In all fairness it didn't look good and she knew it. As she left the sanctuary of the stellar cartography lab that morning, she was anticipating that fifty percent of her patients or more would not survive. Those were not good odds.


	11. Chapter 11

Three additional days later ...

 

Astrid Zeller had to admit that the human immune system was a very fragile thing. Three of her patients had finally succumbed to the disease since the discovery that the disease was terrestrial in origin. Ensign Knight had been confined to bed in the mess hall where she had previously acted as a nurse, attesting to the problem of intensive and constant exposure to the virus. Phlox, seeking a temporary stopgap measure, had beamed over some immuno-enhancing medications that came from his folksy way of practicing medicine. Her patients said the stuff tasted like urine, or worse. Though it grated and she longed to snarl a rebuttal to their statement, Astrid merely countered with one of Phlox's own favorite lines.

"I don't care what it tastes like."

The putrid stuff was buying them time, but not much of it. Neither doctor had come up with a remedy for the disease that was by degrees ravaging all of them on the station. Zeller herself had come to rely on a cane. Cutler was beginning to seem drowsy most of the time, and her skin had turned a sickly hue. The others, excluding the shrinking violet called Ensign Knight, were bearing it as well as they could, taking in massive quantities of several medicinal substances to avoid finding themselves flat on their backs.

Phlox claimed to be close to solving the riddle, at least according to Cutler who still acted as go-between for human and alien. He just needed time to finish running some tests on his concoction of hybrid homeopathic-scientific remedy. It wasn't quite ready for use on humans. Doctor Zeller, always uncomfortable with his brand of medicine, urged haste nonetheless. They had many commodities on that station, but time was not one they had in abundance. When Astrid lay upon her cot at night, she could practically hear the clock ticking.

 

The pressure was not unnoticed by the Denobulan. With the captain's permission, he had every member of the science department helping him to test and prepare his remedy, some of them working ten to twelve hours without a break. Even Sub-commander T'Pol was lending a hand with various analyses. If those working with him had never imagined the cheerful doctor as a grueling taskmaster before, the picture of Phlox running a most efficient sickbay was forever etched in their minds after the first day of assisting him. But it was rewarding work too. The experience was filled with the thrill of doing something that had not been done before, and many of the Enterprise crew lived for just that.

Captain Archer avoided hanging around sickbay, but from time to time he stood in the doorway watching six or seven members of his crew assisting the chief medical officer in his Herculean labor. Occasionally he would see painful worry in the doctor's eyes, especially as he awaited the beeping of his communicator, which was still the favored method of communication for both physician and crewman. Archer knew that he feared that the day would come when she was no longer capable of making her daily progress report. He was aware of the special connection, of the friendship between them, and of how much it had helped both parties during the present crisis.

The captain chuckled softly as he heard the communicator on the doctor's desk begin beeping quietly. Phlox dropped everything, passing the instrument that he was using to a crewman near at hand, who smiled as he accepted the tricorder, seeming to know exactly what was going on. When it came to answering that particular summons, Phlox had become very predictable. Nothing would keep him from it.

"Phlox here." he answered, a pleasant look washing over his features.

"Please tell me you're making progress." said the tired voice of Crewman Cutler.

"Of course we are, crewman. Are you under the false expression that we are all sitting on our hands over here?" he questioned, smiling at his laboratory assistants.

She chuckled and said, "Sorry, Phlox. But seriously, can I have a good word for Doctor Zeller?"

"I doubt Astrid will understand its meaning, but try 'patience', crewman. We are all well aware of the severity of the situation over there." he replied.

"I don't know how much longer she's going to last, Phlox." Cutler finally admitted. "She's using a cane to walk ... and I don't think she has more than a few days before she collapses."

"Doctor Zeller is stronger than you think, crewman." Phlox reassured her, a startled expression coming to his face before he could mask it, conscious that his assistants and the captain were all listening. Then he remembered something that Doctor Lucas had said to him once: "Remember, crewman, meanness never dies."

The comment caught Cutler off-guard, and she laughed aloud, despite her extremely sore throat, and hearing the sound, everyone in sickbay seemed to relax and go back to their appointed tasks without another thought.

"Thanks, Phlox, I needed that." said the young crewman when the laughter had subsided.

"Don't mention it." said Phlox. "Tell Astrid that we are all doing our best over here."

"Not that she would believe it, but I will." answered Cutler.

"Take care, crewman."

"You too, Phlox." she replied as they closed the channel.

The doctor looked at Captain Archer where he leaned unobtrusively in the doorway, watching and listening to everything occurring in sickbay.

"I think you did a good job handling your young colleague." commented Archer with a deferential nod.

"No, captain, she wasn't going to fall apart or anything. She was just expressing her concerns. She would have been remiss not to have done so. Crewman Cutler is what I believe your people refer to as spirited. She has an inner strength that is by no means detectable just by looking at her. She just needs to be reminded that it's there sometimes." Phlox explained to him as the crewman returned his tricorder to him.

"Keep up the good work, doc." said the captain, intending to vacate the sickbay before his presence became intrusive.

"We will all do just that." Phlox assured him before returning the business at hand, no more confident than previously, but motivated by both Cutler and the captain.

 

The following morning as the captain found himself in his ready room reviewing weapons and engineering reports, which Malcolm and Trip had begun to compile in order to pass the time, a beeping at his door interrupted his reading. For a moment he thought it might be Phlox with good news regarding his quest for a cure, but he quickly realized that Phlox would have simply used the comm system to relay the information.

"Come in." he called, frowning slightly, as though in anticipation for the unpleasant unexpected.

To his surprise it was Sub-commander T'Pol who entered, carrying a rack of about a dozen hyposprays. Her expression, as always, was neutral, betraying nothing that the human countenance might.

"Phlox has asked me to see that all of the bridge crew and senior officers receive the vaccination." she stated, setting the rack on his desk and removing a hypo from it.

"So you've managed to come up with a vaccine against the disease?" he questioned.

"No, it was chiefly Phlox and Crewman Schaffer who developed it. I am merely one of its distributors." she informed him placidly.

"And we are all being given this stuff ... why?" questioned Archer.

"When the medical team is no longer capable of taking care of their charges, they must all be moved here or left to die. It is the doctor's intentions to go with the first option in the event that the choice must be made. Given that we have an effective vaccine, I concur." she explained.

Captain Archer couldn't help but to smile as he gestured toward his neck for her to administer the vaccine.

"I have to ask. Just how much is this going to hurt?"

"The doctor says that unfortunately it will leave something of a small scar, not unlike the early small pox vaccinations in the twentieth century." she answered.

"Well, at least everybody will have one. It's better than a tattoo." chuckled Archer.

" I must administer it to an area with a significant amount of muscle tissue, captain, or it may not be one hundred percent effective." she told him.

Archer looked a bit uncomfortable as he left his seat and said, "Please tell me you're not asking me to drop my pants, sub-commander."

"No, of course not, captain. It should be sufficient if you just roll up your sleeve." she told him rather hastily.

After complying Archer asked, "And what will the side effects be?"

"They should be minimal, according to Doctor Phlox. I have been assured that it is perfectly safe, captain." she said as the a gentle hiss came from the spray.

It was all the captain could do not to flinch. Unlike most hyposprays, this one burned and tingled quite a bit more than usual.

"How many crew members do you have left to do this to?" he questioned, reaching to rub the spot where the hypo had been administered.

"Don't touch it. The itching sensation will only increase." T'Pol warned him. Answering his question, she said, "I have eleven more to go, but there several of others performing this task as well."

"And Phlox is certain that this vaccine will be enough, if worst comes to worst?" questioned the captain as the Vulcan science officer gathered her things and prepared to leave.

"He is." she agreed. T'Pol's expression changed slightly as she said, "I would like to make a statement regarding the crew and the current situation."

At first Archer was puzzled by the formality, then he remembered that it was just her way and he smiled.

"Go right ahead."

"I am aware that some members of the crew previously resented or were uncomfortable with having a Vulcan serving aboard the Enterprise. In the past two weeks that situation has changed somewhat, I suspect due to the presence of Doctor Zeller and her ... illogical beliefs about other species. It is difficult to understand how this has changed the opinions of the crew, but it apparently has. One would think that having a person onboard who also held negative opinions regarding Vulcans and other alien life forms would provide positive reinforcement for their own beliefs. Instead, it has acted in almost the opposite fashion." T'Pol told him, obviously having given the occurrence much thought.

"It sounds almost as though you have a question, sub-commander." chuckled Archer. His science officer's only reply was a slightly raised eyebrow. "Human nature, T'Pol, but in a good way. We were all taught as children that it is wrong to hate people just because they are different. When confronted with someone as ... truly and openly prejudiced as Doctor Zeller, we tend to feel a nagging guilt that may cause us to try and change our own beliefs and opinions, even the smallest traces of prejudice that we may still harbor."

"I fail to see the logic in the whole affair, captain, but I cannot say that I am displeased with the results." answered T'Pol.

"You know, me neither." agreed Captain Archer, leaning against his desk.

"I should be on my way." she said after an awkward pause. "Phlox will require assistance in sickbay soon, and I have other things that must be done first." she added.

 

A few of the crew members groused just a bit at the idea of being given a vaccination, but not one, being well apprised of the effects of the disease and the situation on the science station, objected to the very necessary precaution. Phlox had one regret concerning the affair, of course. It required technicians that were very much needed in the search for some feasible way to destroy the virus, which naturally excluded the early suggestions of high levels of radiation or radical cryogenic processes. The first few brainstorming sessions had come up with ideas that were mostly bizarre and unworkable, but some had had potential, including those that pushed them in the direction of traditional Denobulan medicine.

The willingness of his helpers to consider such measures made the good doctor feel quite proud of both their creativity and their openness to new ideas. Most of them were still wary of his menagerie, but at least they were not hostile to the ideas represented by the keeping of alien life forms for medicinal purposes. Even some of his most respected colleagues in the medical exchange had balked at that until they had had a chance to see some of his remedies at work.

The sickbay was empty as he labored at a microscope, watching the destructive microorganism die a horrible death at the hands of a compound that Phlox and his team had begun developing. The human cells surrounding the viral cells were taking a beating as well, but there was a good chance that they would survive and heal under the right conditions. It was so close to readiness, and yet still in need so much testing. He sighed as he observed the processes occurring beneath the instrument.

Then the communicator on his desk began beeping. It always sounded so urgent, so important. He had not anticipated hearing anything from Cutler for almost twelve hours. Phlox left his observation and dashed across sickbay.

"Cutler?" he questioned anxiously as he replied to the summons.

"Phlox, Doctor Zeller has had a seizure." she informed him, her breath coming in apprehensive gasps, betraying her metal state despite her calm, even voice.

"Take a deep breath, crewman." Phlox ordered. "What is her body temperature? Were there any other obvious contributing factors?" he began to questioned her.

"Approximately forty-one degrees Celsius. I ... I don't think so." replied Cutler, responding to his rapid fire questions.

"Is she still taking all the appropriate medications?" he queried.

"Yes, all of them."

"Give her another spray of Anaprovalin. Her brain is literally beginning to fry." Phlox informed her.

"Dammit, Phlox, that's a nice, descriptive expression. And I thought I was the one exposing them to the harshness of reality." said a mostly coherent Doctor Zeller.

"Astrid, are you going to be all right?" asked Phlox, relieved to hear the sound of her voice, despite her biting tone.

"It wasn't all that serious. I'm made of sterner stuff than my young assistant likes to admit." she answered. "Cutler, give me that thing and get out of here. I'm beginning to feel ... confined." Zeller ordered the young crewman, taking the communicator from her. "Don't worry. I'll give it back." she assured her with something of an audible sneer.

 

Doctor Zeller was anything but pleased when she came around to the sound of her assistant chattering with Phlox about her of all things. By her own estimation she had blacked out for only a few seconds. But if anything, the mild seizure had gotten her attention. She gave herself another hypospray of Anaprovalin while she attempted to manage a civil conversation with the alien CMO of the Enterprise, no easy task in and of itself.

"What do you mean you developed a vaccine, Phlox? There has been a perfectly good one on earth for centuries." she snapped, measuring her own pulse and taking a furtive glance at the door to make certain that the crewman had really left.

"We did not have access to that particular substance over here. It is in the process of being administered right now, which means that in a minimum of thirty-six hours ..." he explained.

"Yes, you can dash over here and save us all." she said caustically, finishing his sentence. It was the first time they had spoken directly since Astrid had slapped him in sickbay. He had nearly forgotten how irritating she could be.

"Astrid ..." he sighed softly, rubbing his eyes as he leaned over the communicator.

"I know, I know. And I'm ... sorry." she replied.

His heart nearly stopped when she said those words. The edge momentarily left her voice and to him she seemed to be merely an exhausted doctor with dying patients and responsibility heavy upon her weary shoulders.

"I know it has been difficult over there, but it will all be over soon." he said, struggling to comfort her.

"I made my bed, Phlox, and now I'm lying in it. I started this thing with ... thirty or so patients and a medical team. Now I have twenty-eight patients and no medical team." she said.

"Twenty-nine." he reminded her, knowing the she could not easily count herself as just a patient.

"And I thought I could fix this myself."

"No one blames you for that, I'm sure. You are, after all, the best in your field."

"Are you trying to cheer me up, Phlox? You don't have to, you know."

"I certainly do not, but I ... want to, Astrid. You are ... all they have over there to hold onto until ... either we find a cure ... or we are able to relocate the lot of you."

"Are you close?"

"Very much so."

"I'm going to lose one ... possibly two patients in the next twelve to fourteen hours. Will it be ready before it's too late for them?"

"I ... No, I don't think so." he answered, knowing the Astrid didn't like her bad news sugar coated to say the least.

"I thought it might be worth a shot." she chuckled wearily. "I was going to ask Cutler to tell you, but we are running out of ... Anaprovalin and your immuno-enhancing concoction over here. Can you see to it that some more is beamed over soon?" Zeller inquired, her demeanor slowly returning to normal.

"I will see to it myself." Phlox assured her. "In the meantime take care of yourself, Astrid." he added.

"Myself and twenty-eight other people."

"Yes."

"And thank you, Phlox, for sending your best people over here with me."

 

The experience had humbled, possibly broken her. Of that he had absolutely no doubt. She was not the head-tossing, smugly sneering, hardened and unreachable Doctor Astrid Zeller that had walked angrily from sickbay at the beginning of the crisis. More than ever Phlox hoped that she would survive the illness and hoped that she would take something positive and lasting from it. Human optimism was beginning to rub off, it seemed.

But the fact of the matter was that the clock was still ticking on both science station three and on the Enterprise.

 

Crewman Cutler had doubted that Zeller would return her communicator. In fact she imagined that she would keep it out of spite, but she was wrong. The doctor returned the device without comment the next time their paths crossed, which happened to be late in the afternoon. It wasn't as though Cutler could not have transmitted her daily report without it, but she would have missed Phlox's reassurances and polite suggestions. To contact him any other way would not have been the same.

That evening she could tell by the background noise in the sickbay that everyone was still working around the clock and that the hustle and bustle had increased. She hoped that they were very close to finding what they were all looking for, because if they were not, then many of them on the station were doomed. Of all the patients, only a few seemed to be making even the slightest improvement, despite the fact that the fever should have almost finished running its course.

"Give me the head count." said Phlox, recalling Astrid's warning earlier that day.

"Twenty-one and six." she said, referring to the station crew and medical team by separate numbers to avoid confusion.

"She was right. Two dead in about twelve hours." he thought unpleasantly. "Were the supplies sufficient?" he asked, not commenting aloud on the mortality rate.

"Yes, they were. I take it that the two of you are on speaking terms."

"Necessity, crewman, probably nothing more." Phlox replied.

There was an uncomfortable pause before Cutler spoke again. She voice trembled just slightly as she did so, but Phlox knew that it was with great effort.

"I have an entirely unfair request to make of you, doctor." she prefaced quietly.

"Now, crewman, you know that I would do almost anything for you." he said, knowing what she was going to say. Phlox had not heard it often, but he had heard it before.

"If I don't make it and it isn't too much trouble, could you see that my things are shipped back to my family on earth?" Cutler requested.

"I never thought I would see the day when Astrid Zeller has more faith in my skill as a physician than you, but, of course, I will see to it, if it becomes necessary." he told her, glancing over his shoulder at the crew in sickbay. Most of them were too busy to listen to the conversation. One or two looked away awkwardly as they overheard.

"I didn't mean to question ..." she started to say.

"Now, now, crewman, you've been under a lot of stress. I understand that perfectly well. Just keep taking your medication and be strong, all right?"

"Thanks, doctor."

"Don't mention it." he chuckled, not especially wanting to let her go, but needing to get back to his work. When no other words came to mind, he closed the comm channel and returned to a piece of counter top where Sub-commander T'Pol was working.

"Anything of merit to report, doctor?" inquired the Vulcan passively.

"I don't believe so."


	12. Chapter 12

In the thirty-seventh hour

 

The general consensus reached late that evening, almost a full day later, was that the treatment worked. It killed the virus without irrevocably damaging the human body in process. It was, by the estimation of Phlox and his team of scientists, fast-acting and consistent in its results. It was what they had been looking for. Everyone was elated. A few crewmen, much to his discomfort, even clapped Phlox on the back when he announced that the remedy was ready for use and that twenty-seven hyposprays had been filled.

It was then, during those brief moments of well-earned celebration that the realization hit him. His eyes drifted to the forgotten communicator on the corner of his now cluttered desk. Crewman Cutler had yet to check in. She was running late. He involuntarily shuddered. Or possibly something had happened and she was unable to make her report.

"I should be going." Phlox told his assistants, lifting two racks of hyposprays from his desk.

Sub-commander T'Pol, who was in attendance, but hardly in the mood for celebration, questioned, "Alone, doctor? Hasn't someone already demonstrated the danger of the precedent?"

Phlox pursed his lips ever-so-slightly before holding out one of the racks to her and nodding, "I suppose so, sub-commander. I presume, of course, that you are offering to come along."

"I am. We were among the first to receive vaccinations, which hopefully are not incompatible with our respective body chemistries, and therefore we may prove the best protected." she told him, accepting the proffered collection of hyposprays.

"Then I suggest that we hurry to the airlock. I have a bad feeling about what may have happened or may be happening over there." Phlox informed her, watching her emotionless eyes glance at the device on his desk as he spoke.

 

The air on the station seemed cooler than that onboard the Enterprise. Phlox wasn't surprised. Zeller had probably gone to great lengths to keep her patients cool and comfortable. It was darker too as he walked through the corridors with the Vulcan science officer at his heels. Only the clatter of their feet on the deck disturbed the silence of the docking area. The pair knew the layout of the station well enough that they only nodded silently when their paths diverged, his leading toward the sickbay and hers toward the mess hall and shuttle bay where he would meet up with her as soon as possible.

Phlox entered the small and crowded space, hoping to find both Doctor Zeller and Crewman Cutler. He was half disappointed to find only Cutler there, lying very still and quiet on a cot wedged into a corner. The lights of the infirmary had been dropped, but he increased the level of illumination as he entered, almost as though by habit. He eyed Cutler for a moment and shook his head before moving toward the critically ill patients, which included Lieutenant Nogales. Phlox quietly checked their vital signs as he administered the hyposprays to those who had not passed on. Three of the beds were occupied by dead men. No one remained who was strong enough to move them to somewhere more appropriate.

Then he knelt by the makeshift bunk where Crewman Cutler slept, oblivious to his presence and activities. He cautiously took a tricorder scan of her vitals. The fever that raged through her body was barely being kept in check by the medications, but it was as much the fault of fatigue or exhaustion as that of the disease that she was lying there. Phlox administered the spray gently, her eyelids fluttering in response to the sensation. The absence of Doctor Zeller troubled him, but he knew of no surer way to locate her than by asking Crewman Cutler.

"Can you hear me?" Phlox asked her quietly, shaking her by the shoulder and noting that she was lying on her side and looked very unwell. Had her condition deteriorated so quickly?

"I can't believe you've come." she murmured as she opened her eyes and smiled softly.

"Better late than never, I suppose." he said glibly, warding off the tremendous relief that he felt.

"So you did it?"

"You had doubts? I don't know what to think, crewman!" he chuckled, helping her into a seated position.

"I didn't really have doubts ..."

"I know." he admitted, not bothering to confess that he had had them. "Where is Astrid? She needs to have one of these too." he told her, gesturing to the hyposprays.

"Doctor Zeller sleeps in the stellar cartography lab. I can show you the way." offered Cutler.

"No, crewman, I think you have helped enough for now. Rest quietly and don't overtax yourself." he cautioned with a very Denobulan little smile.

 

The laboratory of those who mapped the stars was not located too far from the sickbay. It was no struggle for the doctor to find. He considered knocking, an old earth custom, or pressing the buzzer next to the door, but it whisked open almost immediately when he reached it. Astrid had not bothered to secure it. Doing so had become something of a moot point. It was pitch dark in the room when he stepped over the threshold.

"Astrid?" Phlox called uncertainly, fumbling for the lights with one hand and clutching his precious cargo with the other.

"This is unexpected." coughed Zeller, who did not sound at all drowsy compared to Crewman Cutler.

"Is it really?" asked Phlox absently as he turned up the lights.

"Are you here to blind or to heal? Stop that!" she hissed as they became brighter than she preferred.

"Sorry. I was going for the latter." said Phlox, dimming them slightly.

"Seriously?" she questioned as he got his first good look at her.

"Oh, Astrid." he breathed, looking at her drawn features, jaundiced skin, and trembling hands where she lay upon a bunk obviously built for her use. Her stately beauty had diminished and she looked impossibly frail, but what made him voice his surprise was the empty, hollow look in her eyes. The defiant, arrogant spark had dwindled and died.

"Well?" she questioned, swinging her legs over the side of the bed with some effort. "Are you going to stare at me in my ... unfortunate state for all eternity or are you going to give me a hypo, doctor?"

"Again, the latter." he murmured, taking one from his set and quickly administering it.

"How long until it begins to work?" she questioned.

"You should feel some relief in about half an hour, but the symptoms will not dissipate for two hours."

"Then I should be with my patients in the meantime." she nodded, starting to rise.

Phlox caught her by the arm and gently prevented her from standing as he told her, "Cutler is watching over the patients in sickbay, I'm sure. You should stay here."

Something familiar flashed briefly in her eyes, but she did not resist.

"Whatever you say, doctor. I suppose you are in charge now, aren't you?"

"Only until you are fit for duty again, Astrid." he assured her, walking toward the door of the lab.

"Perhaps when this is all over, we can collaborate on the report?" she suggested.

Phlox smiled thoughtfully and replied, "I believe I would like that, Astrid."

 

As he hastened through the corridors of the station, Phlox was forced to remind himself that people didn't change over night. She could not go from being Astrid Zeller, prominent racial theorist, to someone willing to collaborate with an alien in scarcely a week's time. It just didn't happen that way. When she was well and less fatigued, when she felt more like herself, surely she would behave accordingly. But those few moments when Astrid was someone that he could relate to had been refreshing and quite priceless.

"If only people did change." Phlox murmured, stepping onto the lift that would take him to the main shuttle bay of the station.

 

Phlox could hear the commanding monotone of Sub-commander T'Pol's voice long before he reached the bay, where most of the remaining patients were being treated. Given time and some training, he mused, she would make a skilled nurse and her bedside manner would rival his own. For a moment the thought amused him, then he entered the shuttle bay, ready to deal with the business at hand.

"What is your opinion regarding moving our patients to the Enterprise?" he asked her, once she had told him which patients had and had not received the medication.

"It would be more efficient, but it would require a large number of crewman for the task, especially since many of these patients will not be able to walk for some time." she replied coolly.

"Is that a yes or a no, sub-commander?" he inquired, looking up from administering a hypo.

"It is an affirmative, doctor. Should I make the necessary arrangements?"

"Please do." he said, gesturing toward a nearby comm panel on the wall.

 

It had required the bulk of both the security and science personnel from the Enterprise to carry out what Lieutenant Reed classified as an evacuation of all personnel from the science station. Phlox, glancing at the station's infirmary, chuckled as he realized that his own sickbay would be just as crowded soon. Crewman Cutler gave him a quizzical look as the last crewman was carried out on a stretcher. Another pair of Enterprise crewmen appeared at the door.

"Your turn." he said, offering her a hand.

"I could walk, if only I had a shoulder to lean on." she said wistfully. A little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Cutler looked as though she could manage it.

Phlox waved the crewmen away and toward the lift to the mess hall, which was not yet emptied of its temporary residents, and helped Crewman Cutler to her feet.

"You're in luck." he told her. "I'm going your way."

As they stepped into the corridor, two crewmen with a stretcher passed by. Cutler was surprised to see that its passenger was none other than Doctor Zeller. Phlox and Cutler fell in line behind them.

"Is she going to ...?" questioned the young crewman, astonished, as ever, by how sick Doctor Zeller looked.

"Die? Not anytime soon, crewman." Phlox reassured her, cautiously keeping a guiding arm around her waist. She was strong, but unsteady on her feet, which surprised the doctor nonetheless. Cutler was one of the fortunate few leaving the station under their own power.

"Not anytime soon? Where's your bedside manner? My God, Phlox, is that the best you can do?" asked Zeller, opening her eyes and glancing over her shoulder.

 

Chapter Thirteen

Three days later

 

Things were beginning to get back to normal on the Enterprise. All of Phlox and Zeller's patients had been discharged, those who had survived none the worse for wear, including Zeller herself. The science station was up and running again, though at least somewhat understaffed. Approximately half of the scientists, researchers, and crew there had died of the Yellow Fever brought onboard inadvertently by their own CMO, who paid the ultimate price for his mistake. But the Enterprise and her crew had accomplished the mission that had brought them to the station.

On their last day at the science and research station, Captain Archer, Doctors Phlox and Zeller, and Lieutenant Alonso Nogales, the senior officer on the station, met in the docking area in preparation for the departure of the Enterprise.

"Lieutenant, I wish you well with your command. I imagine Star Fleet will be sending additional staff for the station as soon as they can get a ship out here." Archer told the young officer, shaking his hand. In many ways Archer was rather impressed with Nogales, whose diligence had kept the station operational until their arrival.

"I'm sure they will send a replacement for the late Commander Petrovich, captain, but I will try to enjoy it while I have it." said Nogales with a firm nod.

"Not if they listen to my recommendations." said Archer with a warm smile.

"Thank you, sir." he nodded. Turning to Phlox and Zeller, he thanked them as well, especially Astrid, who had risked so much for the well-being of his people and himself. "We need a chief medical officer, you know." he hinted to her.

"I am ... flattered, lieutenant, but I still have a long career ahead of me, I hope, and this just isn't the place to pursue ... advancement, if you understand." she replied, the arrogance in her voice not at all subtle.

"Of course." replied Nogales, still having a difficult time understanding how someone so brave and so professional could nevertheless be such a terrible person. As far as he was concerned, it was one of the great mysteries of the universe.

"Then I suppose we should take our leave of you. After all, we have only three days during which to rendezvous with the Vulcan science vessel Gol, which will take our esteemed Doctor Zeller back to earth." Archer informed him, relishing the thought of her departure.

"Yes, and godspeed to you, captain." said the lieutenant.

Archer thought the officer might have had an inkling of how eager he was to get rid of Doctor Zeller and put the entire business behind them.

 

Astrid followed Phlox back to sickbay, which was a quiet and pristine haven again. They had not discussed writing that report yet. Phlox surmised that she regretted making the offer. He was not far from the mark. If Doctor Zeller could have taken back her proposal, she would have done so in minute. She knew very well that there was nothing to be gained from the situation, no laurels and no praise from her peers, and did not wish to complicate the matter by publicly associating herself with a non-human. But the report had to made, and she was too proud to renege on the offer.

"So what are we going to put in that report to Star Fleet Command?" Astrid questioned, taking a seat at the doctor's own desk while he checked on one of his pets.

"I would begin with recommending that we transmit all of our data for future reference in the Star Fleet medical database." he suggested.

"Of course. After all, should anything like this happen again, it could easily reduce the mortality rate by half if the doctors in charge of the situation don't have to perform the kind of research you had to do." she agreed mildly.

"It always comes down to the numbers, doesn't it?"

"Are you throwing out the first barb of the morning, Phlox? I was sure that was my department."

"My apologies." he murmured.

"Care to play a game of chess? Sharpen your skills?" she inquired.

"I don't think so, Astrid. Not now." he answered.

"Well, I can hardly blame you. You may never defeat me on the board, but you did win the bigger chess game by curing an epidemic when I could not."

Phlox looked at her sharply and replied, "I would hardly call that a game, or even a competitive venture. We were on the same side, you know."

"No sense of satisfaction then, Phlox?"

"Certainly not in the way that you mean."

"Just as well, I suppose." she shrugged.

"Astrid I have wanted to ask you something since ... this affair concluded." he said, taking a deep breath. She looked at him blankly. "Hasn't this changed your mind about anything?" he asked her.

Astrid Zeller looked away and pondered his question. At first he believed that she would not answer such a revealing inquiry or that she was just thinking of something mean to say in answer to it.

"Privately, yes, I suppose it has, Phlox. I know that no more than five or six of those people would have survived without Denobulan medicine and the role it played in creating both a vaccine and remedy. But I have a reputation and a good name that I must consider. I cannot radically alter my stand when it comes to humans and aliens and so forth. I would never be taken seriously again." 

"I would never ridicule you. Nor would Captain Archer, Crewman Cutler, or Doctor Lucas. Many people would accept that you could change ..." he began to say, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"Spare me, Phlox." she said simply.

"All because of pride?"

"For some people it is all that we have. Our pride, and the reputation that we have made for ourselves."

"Astrid, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but everyone considers you to be a xenophobic individual, and not in a nice way. It would be a great relief if you ... changed." sighed the Denobulan doctor.

"There are people who do believe me, who do listen to my theories."

"Theories that, I imagine, you put less stock in now than before you first boarded the Enterprise."

"Point taken."

"Then you are only being dogmatic."

"Yes." she sighed softly. "Let me up, I've had enough. Would it be all right if we drop this, Phlox?"

"Very well." he acquiesced.

"We should get down to business then."

 

Crewman Cutler had been given the week off to recover from her illness and recoup the energy and strength spent while working double and triple shifts onboard the station during the crisis. She was very relieved when the Enterprise put science station three behind them. The mess hall was empty that afternoon when she stopped by for coffee and perhaps a leftover dessert. Being off-duty had both its advantages and its disadvantages. Other than catching up on her reading, she had nothing productive with which to occupy her time.

As she settled into a seat with a view of the stars, the door to the mess whisked open to reveal Doctor Zeller, who had just finished writing that report with the good doctor of the Enterprise. Astrid filled a cup with hot tea at the beverage dispenser and joined Cutler without invitation.

"I hope you don't mind the company. After spending four straight hours in contention with an alien, it would be nice to spend a few minutes with a human." said Astrid as she took a seat.

"What's with you?" demanded Cutler, finally losing her temper. "You should be, I don't know, a little more gracious. Phlox saved our lives, after all."

"I am only being honest, crewman. I prefer the company of my own kind, and I am not afraid to say so." countered Zeller.

"You know, he isn't all that different from us."

"But that doesn't make him any more or less human, and members of our species should stick together."

"I don't buy into the one race, one planet, one nation thing, doctor."

"You're an idealist."

"You bet I am! And one day idealists like me, like Phlox, like Captain Archer will triumph over xenophobes and racists like you. Instead of earth being the only home of humans, there will be many worlds, and on some of them aliens and humans will be able to live together in peaceful coexistence and mutual understanding. We may even form alliances with other alien worlds, binding the galaxy in a great federation of peace and brotherhood."

Astrid hung her head and chuckled quietly for a moment before looking the young crewman in the eye again. The doctor wasn't laughing at her. In fact she wasn't even sneering any longer.

"Your generation just might do that, crewman. I ... wish you all of the luck in world." said Astrid, tipping her cup of tea in Cutler's direction.

 

Yet another two days later

 

When the Enterprise docked with the Gol, a small vessel by Vulcan standards, the trio of Archer, Phlox, and Zeller ventured to the docking area once again. The captain felt that it was his responsibility to see her off, although he would have done almost anything to avoid seeing the woman again. Phlox on the other hand had the genuine desire to see her leave. The officers aboard the Vulcan ship, possibly holding the belief that greeting passengers is illogical, sent no one to meet her or to escort the doctor aboard their vessel. The airlocks merely opened, and she was expected to enter in a timely fashion.

Astrid stood in the doorway looking at them for a moment before saying simply, "Captain, if you ever decide to trade him in for a human ..."

"I know where to find you." Archer finished for her, not wanting to hear the words come from her mouth.

"But, frankly, captain, I think you are better off with Phlox. He's more suited to your kind of work." she said unexpectedly before turning and walking into the airlock.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" asked Archer incredulously.

"I think it was the best she could muster, but perhaps as heartfelt as anything she has ever said to either of us."

"Don't tell me you're going to miss her!" exclaimed the captain as the doors all hissed closed and the Gol prepared to get underway.

"I may miss our chess games. I may miss her medical expertise. But I cannot say whether I will miss Astrid Zeller or not. She made life ... interesting."

"Difficult, you mean."

"Yes, captain, and quite challenging too."


End file.
